


Boss Chests and Bedroom Bunks

by skerb



Series: Postcards From Waterfall [8]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Crying, Cunnilingus, First Time, Flirting, Gift Giving, Intimacy, M/M, Miscommunication, Multiple Orgasms, Overthinking, Porn with Feelings, Rejection Sensitivity, Sans Has Given Grillby A Box, Teasing, sansby - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:02:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 58,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28534839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skerb/pseuds/skerb
Summary: The brothers spend the day bonding over poorly-constructed cardboard sentry stations. Grillby is back at home with a huge mess to deal with. Papyrus is disgusted with the state of things and takes things into his own hands.Meanwhile, Grillby does some investigating of his own regarding a special piece of information the riverperson gave him.(CH 64-74 - GRILLBY'S BOX & BEDROOM PLAY)
Relationships: Grillby/Sans (Undertale)
Series: Postcards From Waterfall [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2089182
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

It was once more, with great reluctance, that Sans left the inn. Grillby was not without his gratitude, citing that it was unfair to keep him all this time to himself when he had his brother to look after too. Sans nearly interjected that Papyrus was an adult and could take care of himself, but the words fell short as soon as they came to mind.

Papyrus was an adult, yes, but the both of them were still healing. Still not used to shuffling his time between friends and his family, Sans conceded that Grillby had a good point. Not before he pushed the fire monster into bed and covered him in heated blankets a little playfully, if only to ensure the other wouldn’t worry for him. Grillby rewarded him with a warm embrace and a lingering kiss pushed firmly against the side of his skull, making him feel dizzy and flustered all at once.

Snowdin felt far too chilly after spending the majority of the day at the overheated inn and Sans shivered into his hoodie as he trudged down the street. No longer did he feel quite as on edge, and even if there was the lingering guilt that Grillby had fallen ill because of him, he was willing to actually allow himself to relax. It was likely due to Alphys’ analysis that he was nearly finished with his whole ‘delayed event’, and for a smug little moment he was relieved he had managed to sidestep explaining the entire ordeal to Grillby. No doubt the fire monster would have slammed on the brakes hard if he’d caught wind of it.

Sans sighed harshly, his entire body gently misting as it lost its accrued heat in the Snowdin chill. Snowflakes fell in large airy clumps and by the end of his walk home, he had to shake the snow from his hoodie and skull. The cold was simply something that would stick to him now, he found. He sure missed the days when he couldn’t feel it, but on the other hand, he wouldn’t be able to feel the heat either. He’d grown very fond of it.

With that thought leaving a rather shameful grin on his face, Sans started when the door suddenly opened as he made to reach for the handle. He wasn’t normally jumpy at such simple things, but the unknown monster lingering in dark places made a part of his mind on alert ever since the brothers had run into it.

But no, it was just Papyrus. Sans relaxed when he was pulled inside and his brother began to tell him about his day; how he had concocted a deviously tricky puzzle in order to stop _any_ humans that might come across it, and how Papyrus wanted to show him sometime. The other seemed naturally uneasy at first, but soon fell into relaxed and amicable routine, right down to voicing his concerns over his freshly vacuumed carpets and how Sans’ wet clothes should be nowhere near it!!

Supper was leftovers from the previous evening with a new sauce that made it slightly less appetising than before, but Sans was too hungry to care beyond the initial full body shudder.

“i was thinkin’,” Sans mumbled around a mouthful of slightly burned tortellini and orange mushroom sauce, “you an’ me, tomorrow mornin’. we go out and fix you up a proper station.”

Papyrus’ reaction was instantaneously explosive, “REALLY!?!”

Sans grinned, sinking back onto his chair as his brother did the exact opposite, his fork clattering onto the table as Papyrus bolted upright. The table rattled with the sudden movement and Sans carefully lifted his glass of milk so it wouldn’t tip over.

“THIS IS MARVELOUS!! EXCELLENT!! ONE STEP CLOSER. WE WILL BUILD A FINE STATION! WHY, I HAVE JUST THE PROVISIONS!! IT WILL REFLECT MY PERSONNAGE AS A MASTER OF THE CULINARY ARTS AS WELL AS A ROBUST MEMBER OF THE ROYAL GUARD!”

Sans grinned up at him after chugging back half of his milk. In turn, Papyrus was beaming down at him, then suddenly clapped his hands together as though he’d just remembered something.

“SANS!!”

“yeah, broski.”

Papyrus’ feet shuffled giddily, before he made himself calm down (just a little) and reseated himself. “SANS, I HAVE BEEN THINKING! ABOUT YOUR… WELL, YOUR ATTACK! ALTHOUGH IT WAS STRENUOUS IN NATURE AND I, NOT AT ALL HAVING THE WHEREWITHAL TO ASK ON THE SPOT AT THE TIME, HOWEVER, HAVE NOTICED THAT YOU HAVE NOT ONCE BROUGHT IT UP SINCE ITS FIRST CONJURING!!”

Sans tapped his fingertip against the glass, the ringing sound oddly soothing under the sudden excited scrutiny. He averted his eye lights and shrugged to himself, raising his glass to take another drink.

“THIS IS IMPORTANT!! WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME YOU HAD A SPECIAL ATTACK!! OR PERHAPS YOU WERE SAVING IT FOR A SURPRISE!! THAT’S LIKELY IT, ISN’T IT? FAR BE IT YOU TO KEEP FROM HAVING SOME WILY TRICK UP YOUR SLEEVE TO GAIN THE UPPER HAND IN OUR NEXT DUEL, METHINKS!!” Papyrus didn’t bother to contain the excitement in his tone. His sockets positively radiated as he stared his brother down while Sans tried not to squirm on the spot.

“well, it certainly was a surprise, huh,” the shorter of the two mumbled.

“AREN’T YOU EXCITED?”

“if it didn’t wear me out like it did, i would be,” Sans shot back, a little embarrassed. “though-” He eyed Papyrus as he clung to every uttered word, then he grinned to himself. “nah, it’s not important.”

He saw the energy immediately drain from Papyrus’ shoulders in dismay, then Sans’ grin widened, a little bit of an idea forming in his head. When had been the last time he had successfully japed his brother? Longer than he cared to admit, although things had been rocky since then. Sans hummed in consideration, watching as his milk rocked from side to side in his glass as he idly tilted it.

“SANS, YOU ARE SCHEMING.”

Sans winked. “who, little ol’ me?”

“YOU ARE SCHEMING AND I WILL NOT TOLERATE IT!! THIS IS AN EXTREMELY HUGE DEAL!! IT MEANS YOU’VE FINALLY AMASSED ENOUGH ENERGY ON YOUR OWN TO COUNT FOR AN `EXCESS`. A GRANDER MACHINATION MY BROTHER HAS NEVER BEFORE JAPED!! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, H-” He stopped as though he realised something, finger in the air as his sockets blinked comically.

Sans inclined his head in curiosity. “…go on?”

Papyrus lowered his finger, looking quite sour by his revelation. “NO. IT’S RUINED.”

The older of the two started to chuckle when he realised what was going on, then he started laughing. “oh man! c’mon, tell me what you thought i did!”

His brother sat back down and crossed his arms over his chest, then leaned back in the chair, chin held high. “I REFUSE!! IF YOU DON’T KNOW, THEN I WILL NOT TELL YOU AS TO GAIN THE UPPER HAND!”

Sans shrugged, his smirk widening. “ah.”

“AH? YOU MUST BE MORE SPECIFIC THAN THAT!”

“nah.”

“YOU CAN’T JUST ADD AN `N` TO YOUR REPLY FOR A QUIP!! THAT’S JUST LAZY INFLECTION.”

“ok.”

Papyrus made an irritated, frustrated groan that heightened in pitch even though he attempted to stop it. “WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS!”

“it’s the big bro’s job to be frustratin’.”

“YOU SAY THAT SO MATTER-OF-FACTUALLY THAT IT ACTUALLY _PAINS_ ME, DEAR BROTHER!”

Sans tilted his chair and shuffled down to sprawl his arms over the table. “you’re just pouting `cause you lost the game.”

“WHAT GAME! WE WERE PLAYING ABSOLUTELY NO GAME. NOR PUZZLE, NOR JAPE, NO INDUSTRIOUS REVOLUTION OF SKILL!!”

“you’re just mad, `caus-”

“NO-”

“`cause i wasn’t actually-”

“SANS, PLEASE!!”

“i didn’t actually prank-”

“NYOO HOO HOO-”

“-you.”

Sans erupted into pure laughter as Papyrus finally caved, covering his face theatrically with the back of his hand. It was fun to tease, fun to let Papyrus _think_ he was being pranked when he really wasn’t. It was the best way to jape him, as he always fell for it. And somehow, Sans thought Papyrus let him work himself up for that sweet, crushing downfall anyway, just for him. It was the best!

Papyrus had addressed it - yes, it was more or less that he had more energy than before, but Sans was still unpractised with the conjured attack than he really wanted to demonstrate. The last thing he wanted was for Papyrus to ultimately decide that it was too unwieldy for him to use.

Or worse, that he needed to _practise_ with it.

On the other hand, maybe it _was_ impractical. Papyrus was aways for practicality when it came to his attacks. Even though there was utter madness behind his skill, his brother always had a pattern, always made it _just_ hard enough to clear the constructs if you chose to dodge them. He always tried to make it fun.

With Sans’ construct, however? It was unparalleled power behind a glass cannon, and Sans knew it. He didn’t want to prove it to his brother until he got in more personal training time. After all, he wasn’t certain if his blackout had been fully due to the attack itself, or the fact that… everything had stopped.

Sans stared at the ceiling in his room from his bed with a frown, still at a loss on how to process what had happened. The more he deliberated on it, the more he found that it hadn’t been the construct, but something _else_ that had clicked into place.

Was it more gridline nonsense? Or was he just crazy and overspent in every sense of the word? Did he imagine it in some weird lucid dream as he passed out? That made sense, as Alphys didn’t appear affected by it. But then, her tracking system _had_ logged something… He just had to figure out what exactly ‘it’ was.

He sighed to himself and rolled over, hoping for dreamless sleep. He had enough to think about without regular nightmares plaguing his psyche.

The following morning had Sans bright and early, despite his groans of protest and one very adamant younger brother. He was pulled off the side of the bed, but when he landed in a clunky, tangled heap on the floor amongst his socks and sheets, Papyrus just sighed in exasperation.

“COME ON, YOU LAZY SACK OF BONES!! YOU PROMISED!!”

“don’tcha swear at me,” came the muffled reply from the sheets with an accompanying and rather audible yawn, “didn’ promise nothin’.”

“YOU SAID MORNING!! AND THAT IT IS!! IT’S IS PRECISELY-” There was a pause for effect as Papyrus must have checked the time, “-6:52!! THAT IS MORNING!”

“so’s 11:52,” Sans groaned, curling up in the still rather soft and warm pile of sheets now beside his mattress. He only allowed Papyrus to grab both of his arms to drag him away from his bed as he felt the lulling feeling of sleep fall over him despite his brother’s efforts to prod him awake.

The next time he woke he was shuffled into a chair in the kitchen, spiced oatmeal set in front of him alongside a mug of coffee. He absently scratched at the crest of his hip and yawned, stretched, then blearily blinked up at Papyrus.

“oh. `lo, pap,” he murmured dreamily as he hunched over the side of the table. He nearly took a face plant into his breakfast, had Papyrus not been quick enough. Papyrus’ hand caught his forehead until Sans shifted himself to sit upright, still fighting off the last dregs of sleep. “thanks.”

“YOU’RE WELCOME!! NYEH HEH HEH! I DON’T UNDERSTAND HOW IT’S SO DIFFICULT FOR YOU TO DRAG YOURSELF OUT OF BED.”

Sans stifled a yawn and propped his skull on his hand when Papyrus moved his own away. “prob’ly `cause you’re so skilled at it, i don’t really gotta worry about it.” Another yawn, this time less animated, “it still mornin’?”

“BARELY. WE HAVE FOUR MINUTES TO SPARE.”

“marvellous,” Sans grinned and peeked at his brother from one socket, his right winked. “technically i didn’t break my promise, then.” He had to laugh when Papyrus grimaced, although he could see the mirth shining through in turn.

Breakfast turned into brunch, although lunch was added when Papyrus spread oatmeal between two slices of bread citing “ONE SHOULD NEVER SKIP ANY MEALS” before they were finally on their way. The toboggan Papyrus dragged behind him was loaded up with sheets of warped cardboard, some planks of wood, rope, a hammer, a blow torch and small spikes in lieu of nails - and of course, Sans.

The day was crisp and even though it had taken him awhile to wake up, Sans found himself alert enough to survey their surroundings. The Dogi were yapping in the distance away from their twin posts, a few monsters approached to say hello to him but avoided staying too long when Papyrus joined in the conversation. Sans tried not to let it get to him, but his smile fell a little when Papyrus shrugged off their shun and pulled the rope to the sled over his shoulder with not so much as a batted eye.

There was a small clearing a little ways from one of the dogs’ stations that Papyrus scoped out before dropping the rope to stamp around in the crunchy snow. He did so wildly, until his boot prints cleared a relative path from the main trail, while Sans rolled off the toboggan, and a little further so his body weight flattened what he could. He ended up with a skull full of snow for his efforts and even though the chill stung in his sockets, Sans grinned cheekily up at his brother when Papyrus moved to brush the snow off from him.

“aw, c’mon. there’s _snow_ way we gotta stamp all this down,” he snickered, then jolted when his brother clapped him heartilly on the back. The packed snow tumbled from his eye sockets and Sans ended up grimacing, then blew the remainder out from his nasal cavity. _“icy_ what you’re up to.”

Papyrus levelled him with a scowl, which quickly turned into a motivated and even challenging, prideful grin. “NOT EVEN ONE OF YOUR TERRIBLE COLD-ASSOCIATED PUNS WILL RUIN THIS DAY!! AND OF COURSE YOU DO, WE MUST BUILD FROM THE FOUNDATION, UP! THAT IS WHY I EXPECT YOU TO BE ON MY-”

Sans’ eye lights lit up when he saw the playful yet horrified look on his brother’s face. He waited while his brother squirmed and finally grinned so wide he was bound to look utterly insane. “…level?”

Obviously that had been the word and Papyrus cringed, bowling past Sans in order to wrestle with a couple of boards while trying very hard not to outwardly affirm to the accidental pun. Sans knew him better than that, so idly walked around to help him.

…

“i got another one.”

“OH. MY GOD.” Papyrus looked around the misshapen cardboard wall he’d been hiding behind while Sans kept the other side in place. “PLEASE, SANS. I AM _TRYING_ TO FOCUS.”

“you’re doin’ a great job. i just thought sharin’ some of my buildin’ jokes.” Despite the way he winked, Sans’ smile was infectious. It was a nice change, how he genuinely seemed happier, Papyrus thought.

The younger of the two sighed as though he knew what was coming, but indulged Sans anyway. “OUT WITH IT.”

Sans chuckled to himself, his hold on the warped cardboard jostling somewhat during his delivery, “why did the construction worker dip his hand in blue paint?”

Papyrus groaned pre-emptively. “I ALREADY KNOW HOW BAD THIS IS GOING TO BE AND YOU HAVEN’T EVEN SAID THE PUNCHLINE!!”

Sans erupted into another short burst of giggles. “he needed a _blueprint.”_

“YOU’RE GROUNDED!”

“yes, mom. hey, did you hear the one about how _riveting_ construction work is?”

Papyrus scowled at him once more from around the piece of cardboard, using his boot as emphasis to knock it into place. Sans knew he was overreacting for his benefit, but _man,_ was it ever funny.

“oh my god,” Sans suddenly gasped, “i was thinkin’ usin’ them for a snack, but i got a _fusilli_ idea-”

“OH NO-”

“pap, broski, dude-” the other continued between gasping hoot of laughter, “we gotta use the pasta as screws. they’re the perfect shape!”

“OH MY GOD!! YOU ARE ENTIRELY RIGHT… FOR ONCE.” Sans could’ve sworn he heard a comical _ding_ from behind the piece his brother was behind and laughed harder, if that were possible.

Despite how much Sans’ laughter rocked the wall he was propped up against, Papyrus steadied his side before making a mad dash towards the toboggan to search for the box of fusilli pasta. Meanwhile, Sans wiped at his face as he eventually calmed down to a snicker here and there, when Papyrus returned, brandishing the found box like a gloating trophy-winner. Sans ended up crumpling into a heap of laughter again while his brother posed with it, making his side of the cardboard shelter tilt at a lop-sided angle.

“SANS, STOP YOUR INFERNAL TITTERING AND HELP ME.”

Sans wiped at his face again, his eye lights twinkling as his grin widened even more. Readily, he pushed himself up and helped to steady his side of the makeshift station and even though they used an old crank-operated drill to core into the support beams, the fusilli screwed into place and were surprisingly strong. Even though they would probably absorb the moisture and grow soggy, Sans was willing for the bout of silliness to extend for however long the station lasted. And if that made Papyrus happy then he would reinforce it later, to prolong the joke.

It was later in the day that they were finally finished. Their feet had padded down a lumpy path from the trail to the station and Papyrus had painstakingly written a sign in his scrawling, spidery script to any human that would dare pass. It hung a little crookedly, the roof was a bit uneven and even caved on one side if you looked at it head-on, but the two were extremely proud of their work. It had been awhile since Sans had so much fun, and Papyrus was willing to accept that not _all_ of his brother’s jokes were horrible.

They were cold and their clothes were soaking wet. Being exhausted by having fun all day and pretending the world wasn’t as cruel as Sans thought it was, he flopped down into a snowdrift with a slight grimace. Papyrus collapsed beside him and covered his face with a handful of snow, much to Sans’ muffled protests. He squirmed away from his brother’s glove and gathered a few handfuls of snow to pelt at him in revenge.

“HOW IS HE, BY THE WAY?” Papyrus asked as Sans dodged a few well-aimed clumps of snow and stooped to scoop some up to return.

“who?” Sans stopped almost immediately and regretted it. Papyrus’ snowballs hit him square in the chest and he stumbled backwards and landed on his rear. “oh. grillby? he’s doin’ ok now. y’don’t gotta worry `bout him.”

Papyrus turned the remaining snowball in his hand, not keeping eye-contact as he deliberately stepped into the snow to make it look a little neater. “I WAS… CONCERNED THAT PERHAPS IT WAS BECAUSE HE WAS WITH ME THAT THIS… ALL HAPPENED,” he paused and gave Sans his best smile, “I’M GLAD THAT IS NOT THE CASE!”

Sans saw the ruse well enough but rested his skull on his hand with a restrained shiver. “nah, i think he would’ve done it regardless if he was with you or not. `sides, it’s good to have a buddy system, i guess,” he gave in to a mild shrug and started picking ice from the insides of his pockets. “he doesn’t think i should blame myself. but, uh… too late, i guess.”

Papyrus was still turning the snowball in his hands but approached him. “I DO NOT BELIEVE THAT YOU BELIEVE THAT IN ALL HONESTY, SANS! IF YOU SAY THAT I AM NOT AT FAULT, IT DOES NOT MEAN THAT YOU ARE EITHER. OF COURSE THERE STANDS TO REASON THAT YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE RUN AWAY IN THE FIRST PLACE, BUT… IT’S EASY TO SAY THAT, AFTER THE FACT.”

Sans hummed in agreement, his smile easing somewhat. “i know. m’sorry, bro.”

“IT’S… WATER UNDER THE BRIDGE, SANS. I JUST DON’T WANT YOU BLAMING YOURSELF AFTER EVERYTHING. BELIEVING IN YOURSELF IS THE HARDEST THING TO DO AFTER MAKING MISTAKES, BUT I KNOW YOU CAN DO IT! THE BELIEVING, I MEAN!! AND IF YOU CANNOT, I WILL BE BESIDE YOU, ROOTING FOR YOU!”

Sans sat back and looked up to his brother, who was giving him an encouraging smile. It felt healing. Even though he knew Papyrus was trying to be observant and his words stung a little, Sans knew he was right. They could work through this. They could grow and learn from their mistakes. He smiled a little more and shrugged to himself with a quiet laugh of admission.

“thanks, bro. you’re the best.”

Returning to town felt the same. Sans bundled along with the sled of tools and remnants of their project while Papyrus valiantly pull them all along. He dozed, but grew more alert the closer to Snowdin they got, when he could see Grillby’s alight from the street. As they approached, he realised that the door was ajar, and Papyrus stopped to survey it.

There was no usual clamour from inside as what was normal at this time of day. In fact, apart from a couple of sparse lights shining from the doorway, there seemed to be very little noise at all. When Sans got up, he was able to look inside to see the fire monster hard at work with a broom, his flames a little low, but lively. He wasn’t sure if that meant Grillby was in distress or not, so he hopped off the toboggan and proceeded forward until Papyrus’ voice stopped him.

“WHAT ABSOLUTE FILTH!! I SWEAR, IT’S AS THOUGH THE GREASE IS LADEN WITH SOOT AND ASH NOW. HOW ANYONE CAN DINE HERE IS BEYOND ME, SANS!”

Sans levelled him with an embarrassed look but quickly recovered. “maybe we should leave him to it,” he mumbled quietly, flushing when the fire monster looked up at his brother’s choice of words.

Papyrus clapped his shoulder heartily and gestured wildly. “NONSENSE!! OBVIOUSLY THE POOR MAN NEEDS OUR HELP, SANS!” he retorted exuberantly, then gave Sans a sidelong glance and a wink. The smaller skeleton felt a little peculiar at the suggestion but followed his brother inside, leaving their sled out in the snow.

Grillby had stopped and was watching them both, his grip on the broom a little tight. Sans kicked the snow off from his shoes at the entrance and sighed knowingly when the air from outside hit the room.

It was either due to the fact that Grillby’s heat wasn’t enough to warm the building just yet, or the fire monster had just gotten back from the inn. A cursory glance over the state of the restaurant showed a few cleaning supplies, gloves, a spray bottle and some already filthy rags on the counter. There was also Grillby’s blanket brought over, and the bartender was wearing what he had been in the day before, only with a scarf and heavy jacket over him. His flames were flickering between muddy orange and red, and although they were lively, he seemed agitated.

“PITIFUL, REALLY. ONE WOULD THINK YOU’D BE RESTING NOW AND NOT… THIS,” Papyrus sighed to himself and Sans looked at him sharply. While he had been thinking Grillby had definitely seen better days, he was taken aback when his brother chose to bluntly state it outright. He adjusted himself and made his way into the restaurant after closing the door.

Grillby’s grip on his broom tightened a little more, but he didn’t reply or make any excuse. In fact, his flames ruddied a little more in embarrassment.

Papyrus then clapped his hands together with a sound of eureka. “I HAVE JUST THE THOUGHT. ALTHOUGH IT WILL TAKE SOME-” he paused and nodded to himself, his mind going into a whirlwind as he thought it over, “YES!! THAT’S RIGHT! SANS, I DON’T MEAN TO ALARM YOU BUT I AM GOING TO THE BATHROOM.”

Sans blinked at him in surprise. “wha?”

“TOODLES!”

Then he was gone - or rather, he was gone and then immediately returned to apologise for leaving the door open, then promptly slammed it shut, leaving the two alone.

Peculiar, but nothing out of the ordinary for his brother. Sans sighed and turned to face the fire monster. “how’re you feelin’?”

The fire monster approached, his body easing into the movement in a fluidity Sans hadn’t seen for some time. The distance closed between them and Grillby wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Immediately, the skeleton could feel the gentle warmth flow from the other and spark something inside of his soul, and he just knew Grillby had recovered. Still a little dimmer than usual, but he was better.

It seemed that Grillby knew he didn’t have to say anything, so he just held Sans in a tender embrace. Sans laughed a little when he felt the other’s face seek out the crook of his neck and he inhaled a little sharply with the soft kiss that was left there.

“glad you’re feelin’ ok,” he murmured between them. “dunno what that was about, though.”

Grillby withdrew a little and gave him a knowing smile with a pat on the cheek. _“Date number four.”_

Sans looked around the dim restaurant with a mock frown. “no offense, but if this dating thing is a scam to get me to do the dishes, it might not work out.”

Grillby scoffed, rolled his eyes with a grin and gave Sans a playful shove. _“Should I feel threatened? For what your brother has in store, I mean,”_ he tentatively pondered.

Sans scratched at his skull and shrugged to the best of his ability. “he sprung that on his own. i have no idea what he’s schemin’,” he admitted under his breath.

_“Then, we both have cause for concern.”_

Sans snorted in amusement. “sayin’ that as though you didn’t have a hand in his machinations before,” he said with a sly wink. “or were those surprised fireworks genuine?”

Grillby’s colour lightened at that and he attempted to twist his body away, despite the smirk on his face. His eyes lingered a little lower than Sans’ jawline before they darted away again, seemingly interested in the bricklay at the opposite side of the restaurant.

“aw. and here i thought you’d planned that big sappy date in cahoots with him,” Sans teased, grinning. Then he paused and looked once to the door, then back to Grillby, who seemed a little uncomfortable. “date number four already, huh.”

The fire monster nodded after a brief moment of hesitation. He took the moment to move his broom a little idly, tufts of soot and ash kicking into the air as the stiff bristles moved. _“…After.”_

Sans levelled him with an inquiring look, but since Grillby didn’t look up from the floor, there was no tell. Just that the fire monster seemed shy about something… which was unusual for him. Had Sans done something to fluster him? Did he unwittingly gain a point?

 _“`After` will take some time, I’m afraid,”_ Grillby continued a little haltingly. _“…Did not anticipate being closed for so long.”_

Oh. So that was it. Sans figured this might happen to some degree - very rarely did Grillby ‘give’ himself days off. The outings that he did had were planned around his days off, which he even sparingly took. Only Sundays appeared to be the fire monster’s true day to relax but if Sans had any say, he would’ve liked to convince him to take several more. It was a little strange to be in a relationship with someone so productive and with such a high-ranking work ethic.

Sans’ mind stopped at that. He knew essentially what the bartender was lamenting and that it had been hinted at before. Cleaning the restaurant, which had definitely seen better days. It appeared that the smoke had settled and taken form as soot and ash, discolouring all of the fire monster’s glassware and tabletops. The floor likely had to be swept and mopped, and the tabletops washed and oiled. And that was just the presentable space where customers would be. There was still the kitchen, the cellars, and Grillby’s suite to consider, too.

The skeleton held back a grimace when he heard his brother’s voice outside and likely down the street. He could barely hear what was being said, but he had a sudden feeling now. Papyrus would probably never admit it, but even though he detested the restaurant and bar’s choices in food, he would be over the moon to help with any organisational and cleaning that needed to be done.

And two; Sans was sure his brother was feeling guilty to some degree, even though Papyrus had denied it. It would be a way to make it up to Grillby for inadvertently getting him sick.

Grillby shifted on the spot, seemingly restless. The movement caught Sans’ attention and he looked back to him. As though unsure of what to say next, the fire monster continued to sweep and left a little distance between them. The skeleton thought about it - should he offer to help? That would be… something else entirely, he figured. It would mar his otherwise pristine track record of being lazy, although it had been less like that lately and more that he’d been unwell.

Without offering, he took the spray bottle that was already filled with bubbly cleaning solution and a rag and decided to help on his own. While it probably wasn’t up to the bartender’s standards, Sans cleaned the counter top where he’d spent so much time, the smoke residue lifting from the marble surface easily enough.

When he looked back, he realised that Grillby was watching him and he had to grin to himself. No doubt this would be cause for concern if Papyrus found out, but it was one of the few times that Sans felt he had the energy to do so. The gentle sounds of bristles rustling against the floorboards and the small squeaks of the bottle trigger were a soothing accompaniment to their time together.

Sans found that the quiet was a little too much, so he started to tell Grillby about his day and what he and Papyrus had done together. He was amused when the other laughed when he recalled his jokes and how Papyrus had reacted, and even better still how his flames kindled warmly when the seemingly mundane things were talked about with such glowing affection.

In a word, it was nice to have the two brothers on better terms again.

After awhile, Grillby set about to lighting the oil lamps that had gone out around the restaurant and while it was dim, it cast a soothing light into the atmosphere. Although the open space no longer held the smell of alcohol or fried foods, it was beginning to feel a lot more like ‘home’.

Sans grinned to himself as he moved from one booth to another, the one where Grillby had demonstrated their first deep kiss. He recalled it as he wiped over the tabletop, faced flushed, then looked back to Grillby, who was finished with sweeping and had moved to pull on his gloves while staring down a water bucket. His flames flickered in rebuke for a moment before the fire monster bent to grasp the pail with both hands, a waft of steam billowing up from the water as the vessel was heated. Then with just as much distaste, Grillby took the nearby mop and plunged it inside.

Sans thought he could hear the whisper of fire from across the room, but it remained unintelligible. For all intents and purposes, it could very well just be swearing. The room warmed up a little more with Grillby’s fiery activity and the skeleton looked away just as he saw the other look up to peek at him. He minded his own business with the booth’s table but heard the disgusted noise of fire from the other side of the room when the soaked mop head hit the floor with a comical _slap._

With the shutters drawn and no way to look outside, Sans had no way of knowing just what was happening in the street. The crunching of snow threw him on guard so fast that his magic flickered wildly, suddenly on edge. Carefully, he put the rag and spray bottle down and stared at the door when he heard a giggle from outside, then a couple more alongside a faint rattle.

Shushing noises. Another giggle. His eye lights zeroed in on the closed door when a slithering scuff hit the front stoop. Grillby looked up from where he was mopping and watched the cautious energy waft from the skeleton’s body, then it dissipated just as quickly.

Did something happen? He was far too accustomed to the scuffles and voices in the streets from the decades of living in town to notice if anything was out of the ordinary. But just as he thought to disregard what was happening and get back to work, Sans’ posture tensed. Grillby had heard the noise this time, something scraping and unclear - perhaps wood and steel being knocked together? An applause?

Curious himself, Grillby approached the door, glancing at Sans briefly. He did look rather on edge, so he gently touched his shoulder in reassurance as he passed. From the brief caress, Grillby could feel the way Sans had gathered himself and he heard a soft sigh from him, as though it was just what he needed.

Perhaps it was his own naivety, but Grillby didn’t think that anyone threatening was outside. Sure, with the events that came to light those past few weeks, months… everything was uncertain. But there was no malicious aura from beyond the door.

Another giggle and warmth touched his soul. Everything seemed to make sense suddenly when he pulled the latch and was greeted by nearly half of the town. They beamed at him, the local kids, the bunny sisters, the wolves, dogs, and even some of the more mild-mannered teens had shown up, brandishing brooms, mops, buckets of cloths and blankets.

Sans stood stunned, although not as stunned as Grillby was in front of him. Despite the bite of chill wafting in from the open door, he could distinctly feel the pulse of warm intent and love for their neighbour come from the group. They yelled, “SURPRISE!!” and cheered that the only thing that stood between their favourite place being open was a little tidying up.

Although Grillby was shocked, he had the decency to allow them inside. His colouring was all over the place, properly flustered to the point where his fire danced and pulsed in various pigments and light. He didn’t speak that much with the residents at all, couldn’t touch or even physically console them, but he honestly felt he could hug each and every one of them for being so kind.

It was overwhelming. He knew they were all good people, but Grillby had to step away. It was a good thing Ingrid had taken charge on what needed attention to, while Bonnie automatically beelined to the glassware to clean. The fire monster grasped at his scarf and pulled it up a little, his eyes unnaturally bright when his gaze met with Sans’.

The skeleton was fully relaxed now and even seemed amused that this had happened. There was no sign of his brother, but no doubt he’d come by later; it was likely what his impromptu ‘bathroom urgency’ was. Grillby shot the other a smile full of gratitude, his eyes brimming, only to sear off into a soft mist.

He was so touched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [cazdata](http://cazdrawingdata.tumblr.com/) drew a bit of the makeouts in chapter 32 in comic form which you can [see here u///u](https://skerbbie.tumblr.com/post/180183927145/cazdrawingdata-a-commission-for-skerbb-from) (SFW)  
> [popato-chisps](http://popato-chisps.tumblr.com/) drew Grillby from chapter 2 for my bday ;w; [click here to see (sfw)](https://skerbbie.tumblr.com/post/179736447345/popato-chisps-happy-birthday-skerbbie-d-this)  
> [hj-skb](https://hj-skb.tumblr.com/) drew chapter 36 art for my bday ;w; (ty Soul!) [SFW clicky](https://skerbbie.tumblr.com/post/179736209925/hj-skb-happy-birthday-skerbaderbadoo-i-hope)  
> \---  
> I had no idea what to call this chapter. The brotherly bonding was definitely a thing that needed to happen, though! And fluff. It made me really happy to write after so long ♥


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get steamy in the kitchen, then Grillby and Sans get teased by the town. Sounds from the pipes lead to fluttering feelings shared in the basement. Sans entertains an idea.

Sans was shocked to see Grillby’s colours so wild and flustered, but it was a good surprise. He watched as Grillby covered his face with his hands, the way he blushed tinting his head a stark white in contrast to his normal hues. Grillby remained quiet, although if it was due to Ingrid’s instructions nearby to others on how to restock, organise and clean, Sans could only shrug.

It honestly felt as though Grillby needed to take a moment for himself, so Ingrid approached him, one of her ears flopped as she tilted her head curiously with the fire monster’s reaction. “Aw, hun! We didn’ mean t’make you feel put out! Here, Sans - why not take him into the back for a few minutes?”

The skeleton didn’t know how to feel about the knowing smirk the inn bunny gave him, but he was able to pry the mop from the crook of Grillby’s arm and replace it with his hand. He could’ve sworn he saw a faint glimmer of magenta and orange flock up from the space between Grillby’s gloves and his coat, but he didn’t feel the need to point it out. The fire monster remained quiet and flustered, although he did peek out from between his hands when Sans ushered him towards the back of the bar.

He was all too aware of people watching, causing a flush of his own to tint his cheekbones.

“wow, people sure are nice here,” he murmured just out of earshot.

Grillby laughed into his hands, a crisp crackle spreading out between them, only to be reigned in again.

“you ok, man?”

The fire monster peeked out from his hands again and slid his fingers down his face, ending with him hanging his arms around Sans’ shoulders. _“Perfect,”_ he replied lowly.

Sans felt his soul tremble with the overwhelming amount of happiness he felt emanating from Grillby and relaxed. It was a far cry beyond how he had felt not even ten minutes earlier. His hand reached up to grasp at Grillby’s sleeve as the other cupped one side of his face, the familiar warmth flooding into him as he contentedly allowed the moment to carry on.

_“Your brother… He is something else.”_

Sans laughed at that.

 _“Wild machinations. And yet, always with the best intent. What a good lad,”_ Grillby beamed.

Sans leaned into the caress against his face. “yeah. he’s cool like that,” he murmured, every word sending a tremble through him. It was nice to know that even though he had expected it to some extent, Papyrus had surprised them both in the best way.

 _“…Will have to show my gratitude later,”_ the other continued thoughtfully, his eyes still bright behind his glasses as a cheeky smile crept onto his face. _“For you, especially.”_

Sans laughed lowly, his soul thrumming hard with the tease. “man, y’don’t gotta do anything. honest,” he mumbled awkwardly and idly thumbed the other’s sleeve to distract himself from the fire monster’s penetrating gaze. “it’s not like i really did anything anyway.”

Grillby hummed in consideration, all while keeping his tone quiet in case anyone was to overhear. _“Does that mean that you’re rejecting any reward?”_ he teased and leaned down to claim the opposite side of Sans’ neck from where he had visited earlier.

Sans inhaled another sharp breath with the presence of heat, the sensation travelling down his spine in a shockwave of miniature spasms and tingles. “you’re in a good mood,” he huffed, taking Grillby’s cue to keep his voice low. His soul trembled with the idea that someone could walk in and catch them in such a compromising position, even if it was a lot tamer than their previous exploits.

His breath caught when his back connected with the countertop behind him, realising that Grillby had been gently guiding him backwards with every kiss to his vertebrae. So, the fire monster had recovered from his momentary lapse in composure and was now turning the tables on him. Almost literally. Sans had to chuckle at the internal joke, but his next inhale caught again when he felt a soft nip under his jaw, causing his bony digits to flex into the fabric of Grillby’s jacket in thrilled surprise.

“in a, uh, _really_ good mood-” he murmured again, just before Grillby leaned forward to push their mouths together. He sighed against the kiss as spice entered his mouth, heat enveloping him and taking residence in his soul as he felt the other’s hand travel up between them and brush against his ribs. Sans couldn’t help the shudder that travelled through his body with the caress, how it threatened to conjure up imagery of their intimate time together.

Grillby’s hands travelled down further. Even with his gloves, the warmth that seeped into the fabric was enough to make Sans feel the need to squirm. He took initiative and hooked his arms around the other’s shoulders to bring him closer, wanting to feel more of those little addictive kisses that made him feel as though he was on fire.

Mid-kiss and Sans had to stop himself from making any sound when the fire monster’s hands found the flares of his hip bones, giving each an encouraging squeeze. He inhaled sharply, feeling the singe of fire on his tongue, how it lit him from the inside and mingled with his magic.

 _“Do you want this?”_ Grillby asked softly, excitement in his tone even as he resisted the urge to capture Sans’ mouth again to swallow any answer that he would be given. He saw the hesitancy and felt the way Sans’ arms subtly tightened around his shoulders. They were locked behind his neck as though it was the only thing keeping him from being shoved onto the counter and being ravaged.

“i mean,” Sans panted, his grin already intoxicated as his eye lights averted shyly. “what, you’re gonna ask _now?”_

 _“I mean,”_ Grillby echoed, his soul beating furiously in excitement, _“you could barely keep your voice down before-”_

Sans’ skull flushed suddenly and he laughed, his body hunching between them. “wow, you said it.”

The fire monster couldn’t help but chuckle in response, _“Could very well try, I suppose.”_ With that, he gave the other’s hips another squeeze.

The skeleton clenched his teeth together with a low noise of appreciation, attempting to bury it within Grillby’s collar. “no fair.”

 _“…Appear much more frustrated than I,”_ Grillby observed with a knowing smirk. _“Perhaps this is… not the best time to tease.”_

Sans gave him a perplexed look, immediately feeling the loss when the other gently pulled away. He still felt flustered and riled up now, like he suddenly didn’t know what to do with himself. Of course, in his efforts to remain cool and collected, he hadn’t given Grillby the go ahead, which he figured was a way for the other to concede that he was actually comfortable with this.

On the other hand, how comfortable was Sans in that situation with others in the next room, ready to barge into the kitchen to clean it, only to find them violating several health codes? Sans willed himself to calm down, inhaling through his nasal cavity and exhaling out of his mouth.

“i, uh… haven’t really got that.”

Grillby was busy adjusting his hoodie, his fingers gliding along the hood strings in contemplation as the other leaned back against the counter, elbows propped up. He waited for the other to continue, his bright eyes watching intently and curiously while the thrum of fire crackled patiently.

Sans averted his eye lights as Grillby toyed with the strings. “bein’ frustrated, i mean. i’m pretty sure you know what i mean by that. i’m not sure if it’s… it’s somethin’ to do with things when i was a kid, or maybe i just don’t normally think that way.”

He shrugged for emphasis while a few things clicked into place for Grillby - mainly that the regular admission ‘when he was a kid’ cemented how foolish the thought that Sans was immature really was, and that was all. Secondly, if he was deciphering what the skeleton was admitting, exploring with the fire monster had certainly been amongst his first sexual experiences. Did that also mean that Sans did not indulge in… _solo_ endeavours?

Sans sighed again, causing Grillby’s wandering thoughts to go back to their present situation. “i kinda only feel like this with you,” he admitted softly, still keeping his eye lights downcast. A moment of silence passed between them as Grillby absorbed the quiet admission, and Sans grew restless. “welp. now that i’ve made things awkward, i’m gonna head back ou-”

 _“You haven’t,”_ Grillby interrupted carefully. _“You never have. Not with anything.”_ He extended his hand to caress Sans’ skull and gave him a gentle smile, his eyes softening when Sans looked up to his face again, abashed. _“…Believe me?”_

Sans sighed, the strength to resist with pessimism waning. “ok,” he relented with a little bit of a laugh. “at this point i really should. you’re either right, or really persistent.”

_“Absolutely.”_

The skeleton couldn’t help the grin that came next. “reward, huh?” He couldn’t help the flinch when Grillby patted the side of his skull in mock admonishment.

 _“Perhaps… later,”_ the bartender grinned slyly. _“Give you a `walkthrough`.”_

“m’suddenly not interested if there’s any walkin’, grillbz,” Sans countered with a cheeky wink.

Grillby clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes, finally leaning away from the other to give back his personal space. _“Alright… then I will guide your hand,”_ he conceded with a wink of his own.

While it was a little tamer than his other flirts, he hadn’t seen Sans so flustered in quite some time. Grillby allowed it to sink in before giving a brief pass over the skeleton’s shoulder with the palm of his hand. He saw the way Sans’ eye sockets had widened moments after and the way his magic flushed his bones, just _knowing_ that he’d won a point in his favour.

Sans murmured something under his breath as he turned, a fistful of his hoodie in his hand and his skull ducked. Something along the lines of “still counts as a tutorial, y’know,” came from the smaller monster, then Sans left the kitchen cleaning to Grillby, while the fire monster chuckled to himself and shook his head at the silliness of it all.

It didn’t dismiss all of his current worries, but the fact was that those two brothers accounted for much of the happiness in his life. Grillby appreciated them both, despite the nagging worry over many things. Mainly; how much he had remaining of his stock until his next supply run. It _had_ been nearly three months, after all, and the Underground seemed a lot more uncertain just then.

It was as though there was a feeling that a storm or a blizzard was brewing in the upper caverns, and the air was thick with chill and apprehension. He couldn’t risk another trip on the ferry so soon after having recovered, so he conceded that he would have to make some rather expensive arrangements to get his next supply run sorted out.

There were so many things to keep in mind and at least one of them he had to handle with kid gloves. He didn’t even know how to begin his investigation over the disruption that led to a serious threat to his best friend’s life.

Just when his thoughts had become serious, Grillby heard a burst of laughter from the crowd of volunteers and Sans returned in somewhat of a hurry, his magic so flushed that it threatened to spark off of him in waves. He had a hand clasped against his neck, specifically the side where Grillby favoured, and he had taken to digging around under the shelves for something.

 _“What happened…?”_ the fire monster inquired with a tilt of his head. He was a little more than smug to figure that the laughter had been because of the marks left behind from their brief kisses, and Grillby could hear a sing-songy voice just outside of the kitchen that belonged to Ingrid.

Sans cursed when he got up too quickly and knocked into the cupboard with a rag in one hand, his other clutching at his skull. A tear pricked at one socket, still flustered and now in pain from his fumble, he scuffed the clean rag around his face to clear the small smudges while his face burned with embarrassment.

Grillby held a hand over his mouth and doubled up his flames to ensure Sans couldn’t see his smile and how wide it had gotten with how agitated the skeleton was. He merely allowed the other to stand in place as he huffed into the white cloth to calm down, the entire piece covering his face. Then Grillby gently gave the other’s shoulder a reassuring pat and squeeze for emphasis before exiting the kitchen.

The cheering was uproarious and caused him to colour paler than what he’d originally thought it would do, so Grillby did a complete 180-turn back into the kitchen, promptly colliding with another body in his blind embarrassment.

He lost his footing with a startled crackle, attempting to hold onto the other monster as they went down. Unfortunately the two monsters landed in a heap and he was seeing stars, glasses askew with Sans’ bony body under him.

_Very close._

He was so close. Improperly displayed before the door, what weight of him fully against the other and pinning him down. He felt the thrumming pulse of the other’s soul fluttering against his chest, how every inhale pushed up against him. Grillby must have startled Sans as much as the collision did him, as Sans was eyeing him in surprise.

“uh… h-hey.”

Embers fell down and Sans squinted, his body tensing when he heard more laughter from the open doorway. His magic flooded his face and in his haste to get up and away, he ended up shoving Grillby so hard he tumbled off, his colours swirling about in erratic and flustered hues. His glasses skittered away while the giggles and teases about them not being able to keep their hands to themselves grew in volume.

It was one thing to be in control during private moments, but such a blunder with an audience… Grillby cut the thought off there, his temperature and flames rising in shame as he pawed around for his glasses.

“hey, you ok, grillbz?” Sans mumbled. Or at least that was what Grillby thought he meant, as it came out stuttered, every other word a hum or restrained giggle. Grillby didn’t trust himself not to slip up again, so instead he pushed himself off the floor and clung to the countertop as if it were the only thing grounding him.

He was amazed considering how flustered Sans had been any other time, that he appeared so calm now. At least, he thought so. Sans’ shape stooped an retrieved something on the floor and approached him, holding it out to his face. The fire monster just couldn’t get his temperature under control and his voice had a difficult time pushing through his flames.

“aw. there’s them surprised fireworks again,” Sans chuckled to himself after righting the other’s glasses on his face. Grillby didn’t reply, but they both heard a metallic groan from the pipes under the floor.

Puzzled, the skeleton looked down, giving the floor a tap with his shoe. There was another groan, low at first, but not anything a _monster_ would have made.

“welp. that… doesn’t sound good at all.”

Grillby composed himself enough to send a chagrined flare to the horde of gigglers outside of the door and closed it, then folded his arms in thought.

 _“…The pipes.”_ He grimaced, then his fire shifted to muted tones. _“Oh no.”_

“`oh no`, what?” Sans echoed sobrely.

Grillby cursed after a long clunking noise pinged from downstairs, his flames reddening as his soul gave a sickening lurch. No, not now. He had definitely stayed away too long. As quickly as he could, the fire monster barrelled past Sans and threw open the door opposite the staircase leading up to his suite.

Sans followed behind him as he manoeuvred the stairs, becoming more cautious the closer he got to the cellar’s landing. More ticks and another groan.

“oh. i get it now. frozen pipes,” the skeleton muttered from behind him.

Grillby restrained his aura and drew back, his hands scorching the walls as he switched places with Sans. The other gave him an enquiring look, however brief, and shuffled down to check further in.

As Sans meandered inside, he threw a glance over his shoulder to the fire monster, reddened in hue and appearing very wary. The skeleton shrugged the feeling off and ventured further, having never been in the cellar of Grillby’s before. Crates and boxes were stacked neatly in organised piles, shelves of bars held small canisters of product as well as heavy sacks on the floor. There were barrels all in a row.

As Sans drew closer, it became apparent that most of the crates and boxes were empty. Pipes leading up to the ceiling groaned again and he heard a scuffle from the other monster, but Sans decided to ignore it for now. While he and Papyrus didn’t have to worry about frozen pipes at their own residence, this situation was a little more dire than a simple flood. Grillby just couldn’t risk it. Sans knew that he’d been away for far too long and if Grillby’s heat warmed them too quickly, the water inside would expand and burst the pipes.

That would be a whole different problem to deal with, and this was easier to handle than finding the fire monster another place to stay if his cellars flooded.

The skeleton approached the pipes cautiously, listening to the subtle, echoing tinks. He realised that Grillby’s ambient presence must have ensured that they’d never be cold, otherwise he thought that the fire monster would do away with plumbing entirely. But his restaurant, sadly, needed water despite the fire monster’s aversion to it.

He appraised the cold steel and how it had begun to condensate with his friend’s heat and he reached out to touch it. He felt Grillby’s apprehension as he gave the pipe a gentle knock, then closed his phalanges around one of the joints. Inside, Sans felt a prickle of pity coil in his soul over the other monster’s agitation.

His bones were still warm from Grillby’s body, so his touch created a gentle steam. The pipe thundered in protest, making the skeleton tense in response.

 _“…Careful,”_ he heard the bartender warn, although he sounded further now. When Sans turned his head, the fire monster had retreated a couple of steps higher onto the staircase, as though he didn’t trust the noises coming from it. Sans couldn’t blame him. After being ill for so long, Grillby was being more cautious than he’d ever seen him before, even in comparison to their trip through Waterfall.

“aw, don’t worry,” Sans assured him with a placid wave. He started when another long whine came from his side and he turned to regard the pipes once again.

He wrapped his hands around the main valve, an idea forming in his head. It was a simple plan, but even simple ideas tended to be complicated when it came to him, lately. He drew in his magic with a veiled grimace, collecting the residual heat in his bones and allowing it collect in the phalanges of his left hand. His other remained cut off from the flow, but he paid it no mind, having been used to it for so long.

After awhile, he heard trickling noises running, coupled with the anxious flutter of flames. Sans realised that he’d been holding his breath in anticipation, relieved that his notion had been correct. It just needed to thaw slowly, and using the bartender’s concentrated heat would have been too much too quickly, resulting in damages that would’ve likely taken weeks, if not more, to repair.

It seemed to slow. Sans’ grin tugged down into a frown and he took his hands off the pipe, his bones freezing now. He shivered, trying to rub the sleeves of his hoodie to warm up as he’d seen fleshy monsters do, but he settled on looking back to the fire monster.

 _Well, duh,_ he thought, his face lightening. He stepped away from the wall where the lengths of steel lay glistening with the muted light from his friend, and he approached Grillby with a grin.

“hey, g,” the skeleton mumbled, a slight blush touching his cheekbones as he shrugged with the idea. “uh… it’s been awhile. how’s `bout we hug it out?”

Grillby would have given him a perplexed look, but his flames hid his expression. It appeared that the fire monster was trying to remain calm despite the looming threat of water explosion, but when Sans outstretched his arms, he stopped cowering on the fifth step. Admittedly, the request was a little silly, but Sans relaxed when Grillby humoured him and wrapped his arms around his torso and drew him close.

The skeleton chuckled to himself as his friend’s heat seeped into his bones. He curled his hands inwards and pushed past the fire monster’s jacket to gain further contact and lay his cold bony fingers against Grillby’s back.

The fire monster jumped with a shrill noise, disarming himself from Sans while the skeleton guffawed, raising his hands in a placating gesture.

Fire curled off of the bartender’s head in rebuke, his embers snapping in both confusion and veilled irritation.

_“Sans! …Was that entirely necessary!?”_

Sans looked at his palms slowly, his grin still wide. “i had cold hands. and you’re the perfect _space heater-”_ he snickered, and Grillby rolled his eyes with a shudder.

Then the fire monster glanced back after a moment, as though privately scrutinising him. _“…Is that what it feels like?”_ he enquired warily.

“what?”

 _“Cold.”_ Grillby seemed uncomfortable.

Sans slowly lowered his hands, then gave in to a slight shrug. “you gonna ask that every time?”

The fire monster didn’t speak, but his flames languidly rolled around his visage, masking how he truly felt about the enquiry. Sans wondered if perhaps he had toed the line a little too much and shrugged again to himself, making to turn away from the fire monster, when Grillby gently stopped him with a hand to his shoulder.

 _“…You’re cold,”_ he said, tone quiet as though it was a revelation. Sans gave him an awkward grin. _“What I mean… is that right now. You are… cold. Whereas before, there was no register of heat whatsoever.”_

The skeleton grimaced awkwardly. “seems like a weird thing to get hung up on, grillbz.”

The fire monster tilted his head in consideration. _“Is it..? I am forever inclined to believe that excess of temperature is not something to scoff at here. Yet, I must be mindful, else control slip from me. Furthermore, a lack of heat signals to me as… a cause for concern.”_ He paused, going over what he said in his head as Sans stared at him. _“What… I mean is, I do not understand `cold`. You will have to teach me, I suppose.”_

Realising what Grillby meant, Sans gave him a wide grin and wiggled his phalanges towards his face.

“ok. but these ivories got a tune to play.”

Grillby’s colours flushed paler and Sans felt his soul burst excitedly. _“…Are you offering me innuendo?”_

It was Sans’ turn to flush. With that, he quickly looked away and stuffed his hands into his pockets. Before he could bury them fully, Grillby smiled down at him and pulled his arms up, taking each of his hands in his own, then he brought them up to each side of his face. Sans’ soul continued its erratic beat as each bony palm was made to cup the undefined jawline of Grillby’s face.

When his bones touched the bartender’s body, the flames skipped around excitedly after a brief shock, while Grillby hunched his shoulders. He chuckled lowly as Sans felt the small passage of heat curl around his fingers and in between his joints, warming him. He swore he could feel it in his face, but Sans refused to allow it to get to him. It was just one of those things that made having Grillby around so confusing, yet delightful.

 _“…Am not hearing any objection,”_ Grillby urged in amusement, and Sans flexed his fingers automatically with a start, gently grazing the hidden form beneath his fire.

Sans restrained himself from reacting too obviously, but he could _swear_ his soul was clamouring like a bell. Surely, Grillby had to see it, right? They were so close now, arguably a _couple,_ some might say. Of course they’d be able to detect each other’s souls…

His thoughts wandered and he found himself idly stroking the fine line of the other’s jaw with his thumbs. Even though Grillby was well, Sans could see the subtle paler glow emanating from the centre of the fire monster’s chest.

What would happen if he kissed the spot? Would it open his core, bring pleasure to him? Would it feel ok to kiss?

Sans muted a cough and tore his gaze away from Grillby’s torso, his face feeling immeasurably warm. Perhaps it had been because the flames that loved him had trickled down his forearms and tried to nudge under his sleeves. He jerked slightly and carefully pulled his hands away from Grillby’s face, flustered.

“m.. maybe later,” he echoed his boyfriend’s earlier tease, only more seriously. He detected the way Grillby’s fire pulsed ever so slightly, even if it hadn’t paled in colour, he could definitely feel the change in heat. He flushed a little more when the bartender leaned down to press a kiss to his temple. It was inaudible, but he felt the familiar way his soul thumped ecstatically when Grillby’s mouth formed three distinct words against his bones.

He didn’t know if he wanted to acknowledge it again, despite how much he knew. There was a reason why the fire monster _wasn’t_ saying it, after all, and it was nothing short of his own feelings. Even for monsters, whose beings comprised of love as the majority of their make-up, saying it out loud still felt tender, whole, a blessing.

He still had hangups about saying it ‘on accident’. Saying it _on purpose_ felt too new, and too sudden.

He wanted to say it. His heart and soul were bursting with it, especially when Grillby drew back a little and he had taken to cupping his skull in his hands. Their bodies swayed together, the gentle crackle of fire between them, their souls beating as one.

At least, Sans hoped he’d be ready to say it. He should be, when his confession had all but the word ‘love’ in it. It certainly implied it enough.

_‘I’ve fallen for my best friend.’_

Sans’ eye lights averted to the far wall, soul trembling the more the silence extended. He definitely wasn’t ready. He had to divert the situation somehow, change the topic, or just downright pull away.

His magic felt trapped in his chest and he attempted to quell it. Mercifully, whether Grillby felt that he was uncomfortable or just plain anxious, the fire monster gently pulled away. His hand slipped from the side of Sans’ face, lingering just long enough to make him ache with longing. But there it was, Grillby’s gentle and encouraging smile, and him knowing exactly when to end a moment.

“uh…” Sans coughed again, as though to clear his throat after they had parted. He was _definitely_ warm now. He rubbed absently at his jaw with the heel of his bony palm, awkwardly shifting in place. “i… i noticed you’re kinda low on stock.”

As though the other hadn’t been anticipating such an abrupt change of subject, his fire flickered, perplexed.

Sans shrugged to himself, defensive as he kept his eye lights trained on the stack of crates and boxes on the opposite side of the room. How long had it been since the last supply replenishment? He fought with his memory. So much had happened between then and now that the days just melted together… it had to be at least a few months. He realised that was a problem, and even though the ferry was operational again, Sans found that he was hesitant to allow Grillby to go on his own again.

 _“Ah…”_ Grillby seemed to hesitate with the implications. Despite wanting to stay entirely unaffected by the observation, his flames shrunk with the unspoken worry. _“I’ll… need to put in an order for delivery. I have been… delaying it.”_

Sans returned his gaze to the fire monster questioningly. Grillby seemed uneasy.

 _“…Am not looking forward to another journey,”_ he added, his voice more quiet than usual. _“Despite the events that… may have led to our coming together, I am hesitant to… I will just… order for delivery, I suppose.”_

Far be it from Grillby to be hesitant when it came to his business, Sans knew. The skeleton surveyed the bartender thoughtfully, then relaxed.

“aw, man. y’know i’ll help out if i can,” he offered. With that, Grillby’s mouth broke out in a heartwarming smile.

_“…Do not believe that isn’t the case. However, I’m remiss to leave Snowdin. So much has to be done. It is… not a good idea to leave, I think.”_

Sans felt his soul shiver with that. The cold feeling settled into his bones, despite being so near to the fire monster.

“gotcha.”

Grillby’s smile became persistent and he added with a chuckle, _“Do not misconstrue my meaning, Sans. Your offer to help means more to me than anything anyone else could ever promise. While it may be some time until the delivery is sorted, the bar will run just fine in the meantime. So… do not fret. I will still be able to construct the most vile burger ever imagined, just for you.”_ Then he gave a wink, which made Sans laugh.

“right. that’s ok… i think i enjoy your personal flavour,” the skeleton managed with a wink of his own, but he was thinking of something else entirely.

Mainly of how exactly a delivery to Snowdin from New Home would cost, and if it was worth it. He would have to look into it. If Grillby was hesitant on it, it surely meant that it was expensive. Delivery across the Underground had to pack a punch, and while most monsters were tight with their hard-earned cash, he didn’t necessarily think Grillby was the sort. He had been given quite a few things on the house, and been granted a tab. The bartender didn’t do that with just anyone.

Rolling his shoulder, Sans stayed behind when Grillby eventually moved to go back upstairs to the kitchen. When he was called up, he merely called back that he would be a few more minutes to check on the pipes. Grillby didn’t argue, thankfully.

Sans did check the main valves and the other steel pipes, drawing upon the heat that the fire monster left on him to warm the ice within them. As he worked, he formulated a plan, however carefully in his head, to try and ease the bartender’s worries.

He had the supplies, after all. As long as he went over the formulae in his notebook and worked out the changed schematics and theories, Sans wouldn’t have a rebound.

He couldn’t very well let himself travel by ferry again. Shortcutting with massive amounts of physical matter would be too draining, and the Underground still had that vile little flower hiding in its depths. He had to think on it hard and long. Maybe he would set it up as a gift…

Sans hesitated. Was this too much of a logical leap for him? He didn’t want Grillby to get hurt anymore than he had. Nor did he want him to fret over him. The rebound was still fresh on his mind, and yet Grillby had accepted him. He wondered if he would be able to do it again, or if he would clam up.

The skeleton sighed as he pushed the remainder of the heat in his hand, listening to the trickle of water in the pipes running freely now.

It was a difficult decision. Papyrus definitely wouldn’t like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helllloooo!!!! Long time no see! I'm sorry this was terribly delayed but life got in the way X'DD I had trade shows at the end of November and mid-December, and then I've been working on Secret Santa fics. But I promised myself I wanted to post at least one chapter for Christmas - even if you don't celebrate, here is a rando present anyway!!!
> 
> For anyone wondering - tumblr's policy changes means that skerbb@tumblr is hidden because it's technically nsfw. I'm mostly on Twitter nowadays and once Pillowfort.io changes domains (to comply with nsfw ToS for their hosting), I will be posting there too!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has dropped a comment or binged this in a few days. That really is awesome and I love hearing about it. ;w;!!! As you can see, Sans hints that he doesn't normally feel impulses when it comes to sex... I'll let you depict that as you will (I don't want any debates in the comment section as I am a nervous skerb)
> 
> Anyway thank you for reading!! Hopefully after the New Year I will get some semblance of normalcy when it comes to posting again. XD


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Absorbed in his notebooks, Sans dithers over his plans to create another dimensional box. Thinking that Sans is hiding something from him, Grillby starts his investigation.

It seemed that everyone had really pulled through to make the bartender’s restaurant glow with how clean it was. The bar rags and towels were laundered by Ingrid, while her sister Bonnie had directed areas to concentrate cleaning. Most of the people who had volunteered stayed throughout the entire evening to help, but the teenagers trickled away after the first few hours.

Sans had kept mostly to himself, thinking on how exactly to rationalise his plans with igniting yet another dimensional box. He had thought about it long and hard. On the one hand, Papyrus would be extremely upset with him over risking his health over another box, which technically wasn’t needed - although arguably, Bonnie and her family hogged the damned thing all of the time, so it might as well be theirs. On the other hand, it would definitely be a personalised one; one that would be exclusive to Grillby’s.

He rather liked that idea. He could sync it up to the warehouse district in New Home with a few tweaks, perhaps even harmonise it with the bartender’s personal magical signature so that the box couldn’t be used for anyone else? He could make it like that, with a few alterations to the algorithm, and it sounded simple enough.

He had the gridline to work with, after all.

The more he debated it, the more Sans veered towards actually planning on carrying out with his idea. The box would be Grillby’s. Maybe he could construct it in a way that matched the decor. Maybe he would etch something into the sides, or… maybe on the bottom of the lid, to remind the fire monster of how much he meant to him?

His soul thudded in excitement at that. Was it too forward? That was probably too much, he decided, unable to keep himself from being flustered on the spot. He realised that others had started to snicker before he noticed that he’d been wiping down the same booth for about twenty minutes, lost in thoughts. Embarrassed, he lugged the pail of sudsy, brackish water away with him to another booth to clean it.

Sans had stayed at Grillby’s until late with everyone else. While he was excited in a way to start his secret project, there was still a lot of hangups concerning Papyrus’ chagrin about him starting up another item box.

He supposed he could… always work on it in secret.

No.

That was wrong.

That is exactly the worst thing he could possibly think at that time. He and Papyrus had finally gotten better at communicating again. Why would he think that keeping something like that from his brother would be anything but helpful?

He slumped at the booth, having taken a seat for a respite after cleaning at least eighteen separate places. He checked his phone earlier and Papyrus had sent him a text stating that he’d be busy with something else. It was just after midnight, and all of the volunteers had left earlier, except for Bonnie.

She slowly crossed the room while Sans dozed on the spot, then rested her hand on his back, jerking him out of the lull. “Y’gonna be alright, hun? How’s about you go home an’ rest, eh? Y’look plum tired!” she observed kindly.

“m’always tired,” Sans automatically mumbled into his arms. “i’ll go home inna bit. thanks for stayin’.”

“You too, dear,” she replied with a covered yawn and gently patted his back before turning towards the door. “It’s warmed up quite a bit in here. No doubtin’ your honey is feelin’ much better. Take care a’him,” she added on her way out, her voice singsongy.

Sans laughed against the crook of his arm in embarrassment, but nodded to himself anyway. It had warmed up considerably, cementing the idea in his head that he had to make sure Grillby’s never went cold in the future ever again. It seemed extreme in some way, but Sans shrugged off the mental insecurity as best as he could.

Meanwhile, Grillby had taken to inspecting the glassware and folding towels, pressing heat into the cloths to ensure there were no wrinkles. He had been watching Sans mill around the restaurant’s booths, and even if the job wasn’t perfect, Grillby noted how unusually quiet Sans was. Normally there would be a quip or a few jokes, but the other instead was pensive and kept out of the passing conversations.

He wondered what he was thinking about?

Regardless, it was far too late to make the call to New Home, but he did enquire as to any disruptions or little peculiar events that might have transpired around the time Sans had his rebound. Unfortunately, none of the bunnies were aware of anything, and while Fisher and Red had lingered around to gossip and speculate, not one person let on that they were aware that anything wrong had transpired around that time period.

It was a little frustrating, but if it had been easy, Grillby would be a lot more worried. But in that sense, he was also concerned that whatever monster that had tried to harm Sans was keeping things low and quiet. He would have to be careful though, so he didn’t press the matter while the skeleton was so nearby. He’d have to reach out and listen carefully to the rumour mill and glean what information that he could from conversations held in his bar.

After Bonnie had left, Grillby kept to his counter to arrange things to his liking, until he heard the soft sound of snoring further into the bar. Of a little skeleton curled up into his arms, leaned over the table with his phone held loosely in one hand. As the fire monster approached, he saw that Sans’ phone was ringing, although it was on vibrate.

Carefully, he tapped the screen to accept the call and Papyrus’ voice boomed out loud and clear; “OH MY GOD. SANS!! THIS IS THE FOURTH TIME I’VE CALLED. WHERE ARE YOU??”

Sans didn’t wake, only snorted in his sleep. Grillby smirked to himself; the poor fellow must have been utterly exhausted.

As Sans’ brother voiced his “HELLO?? HELLO!! SANS!!!” through the receiver, the fire monster carefully extracted the cell phone from Sans’ limp hold.

 _“…Hello, Papyrus,”_ he greeted kindly as he raised the phone to the side of his face. It had been too long since he’d last been on the phone with the taller skeleton, as clearly he hadn’t learned not to do that.

When Papyrus spoke next, Grillby grimaced and held the phone out at arm’s length. “HELLO, MISTER GRILLBY!!! SO NICE TO HEAR FROM YOU! BUT THIS IS MY BROTHER’S CELL PHONE. DO YOU KNOW WHERE HE IS??”

Grillby muffled a chuckle and returned the phone back to speak into it; _“He is… sleeping.”_

“OH.” There was a pause, and then, “YOU SOUND UTTERLY EXHAUSTED. YOU SHOULD SLEEP TOGETHER!”

Grillby’s body flared up at that, golden flecks of embers falling onto the table in embarrassment at the implication. Of course, Papyrus had a way of saying things that wasn’t as he’d intended, but… His core temperature spiked at the very idea and his fire was quick to obscure his expression when Sans roused at the sudden flare of light.

Sans looked up at him through his bleary vision but recognised the perplexed way Grillby’s flames whipped about. He saw the phone in the other’s hand and it slowly registered just who might be calling so late at night. He gestured to take the call, groggily mumbling into the phone.

“`lo.”

“HELLO, SANS!! I WAS JUST ASKING GRILLBY IF YOU WERE SPENDING THE NIGHT, BUT HE DIDN’T ANSWER ME. I WONDER IF HE’S GETTING READY TO TAKE YOU HOME?”

Sans rubbed at his eye socket and inhaled deeply, ready to fall asleep again. “i dunno, he seems worked up `bout somethin’. what’d you say?”

“I DON’T THINK THAT I SAID ANYTHING I SHOULDN’T HAVE?? I WAS MERELY ENQUIRING AS TO IF YOU WERE STAYING THERE-”

“paps, he’s blushing like fireworks over here. c’mon, out with it.”

Papyrus hesitated, “I SAID THAT HE SOUNDED EXHAUSTED AND THAT YOU AND HE SHOULD SLEEP!”

“oh.”

“TOGETHER!”

Sans didn’t know what the sound he made was, but it could only be described as something between a snort and a choking noise. Magic flooded his face as he looked up to see the fire monster’s visage burning several shades hotter, just barely obscured by one hand when he turned away.

Oh god.

Sans took a few spare seconds to calm down and very casually drummed his fingertips on the tabletop. “papyrus. m’comin’ home, don’t worry,” he muttered into the phone, unable to keep the sour tone out of his voice. “m’actually on my way.”

He buried the phone against his hoodie and leaned over to grab at Grillby’s jacket and pull him over. “hey, g’night.”

Grillby was still beaming brightly, but he nodded without a word, a silly smile on his face.

With that, Sans drew his magic inwards and disappeared on the spot.

Over the following days, Sans brought his work with him to Grillby’s. The first afternoon had been so busy that the fire monster barely had time to chat - which was perfectly fine, considering how absorbed in his work Sans had been. He wrote out his formulae in longform, scrutinising every letter and equation to a T.

The only thing he had to worry was getting enough stamina to pour into the vessel, and to make sure his equations were perfect. He didn’t want another mishap. He could shrug off being tired like any other day. But he couldn’t afford an interruption.

Sans debated it. Telling Papyrus meant that his brother would be upset - but it would also mean that he’d be safe, since Papyrus was generally there to help him when he was low on energy. He also wondered - since he was fully capable of using magic now, could he divert his stamina cost to that, instead?

He scratched at his skull and flipped the notebook over to start from the other end so he could figure out another way of doing it without the health risk.

Aggravated by the way he continually jumped back and forth between decisions, Sans released an audible groan and slumped down over the booth’s table, letting his skull hit the open notebook with a _thunk._ Why could this ever be easy, he thought in frustration. He wanted it to be over with, with no repercussions, no adverse effect to his health… and not have Grillby nor his brother worry over him.

His aggravation must’ve caught the other monster’s attention, as the bar went quiet for a moment before he turned his head to see what was going on. Everything was fine - they were all just staring. Embarrassed, Sans flushed and shielded his face with his arm and took up his pen again, ready to write out the next formula in hopes he could work out the kinks.

Later on in the day, Grillby was finally able to approach him. It seemed that the skeleton had opted for one of his impromptu naps and was conked out over his work. The fire monster wondered if perhaps there was a reason to Sans’ silent treatment, and had internally debated if he had overstepped any bounds.

The tease in the kitchen, alongside the quiet, tender moment shared in the cellar… Grillby just wasn’t sure. There were no leads to his private investigation, and while he was sure there was something more to the skeleton’s mood, the bartender just didn’t know how to broach the subject without appearing suspicious. He had to keep things hidden - if Sans found out he was searching out his would-be killer’s whereabouts, no doubt he’d be more than a little perturbed…

In order to justify his visit, and to ensure the skeleton ate something while he was there, Grillby brought out a grilled cheese sandwich (courtesy of Sans’ prior joke) and set it on the table next to Sans’ skull. It took a couple of moments for the skeleton to stir, gradually moving just enough to peek to the source of light crackling beside him.

 _“Good morning,”_ Grillby greeted him casually with a gentle wave, then considered what he was about to say next. _“…Appear to be distracted, lately.”_

Sans drew himself up, but kept his arms covering his open notebook in an effort to hide his work. His gaze was unfocused, though he was staring at the offered food hungrily.

With the extended silence, Grillby pressed on, gently; _“…Very much appreciate your aid in thawing the pipes.”_ He paused, not knowing how to get Sans to chat when it appeared he was so worn out. _“Have you been sleeping well?”_

Sans gave a noncommittal shrug and grabbed a half of the sandwich, taking a large bite of it. “kinda.”

 _“`Kind of`,”_ the bartender echoed, leaning down. _“Better than lately?”_

Sans surveyed him, but didn’t reply.

Grillby felt a little awkward with the look but decided to press on. _“And yet here I thought that I was the one who generally gives the silent treatment.”_ He had tried to joke, but the words felt flat and he, for once, regretted not thinking over the repercussions of his chosen words. When Sans grimaced, Grillby’s soul came dangerously close to plummeting in mild terror.

“sorry, bud. i guess i just got a lot on my mind lately,” the skeleton offered quietly, drawing himself over his notebook more as though to hide it. Grillby watched, keeping his expression neutral enough - but he had caught the way Sans’ gaze flitted down and then to him, as though nervous.

Something was wrong. And Sans was keeping secrets.

Should he bother him? Grillby couldn’t say. With how close they had gotten, it still felt as though it was a boundary, to constantly attempt to chip at the skeleton’s resolve to steel himself to any questions that he’d be posed. But that was Sans, and he’d always been that way. So why did it feel like an overstep now, when things were more or less the same as before? And why did he remember all those weeks before, when Grillby was sure that he’d done the wrong thing, and Sans was avoiding him?

His soul did seem to drop with the thought, although he wasn’t sure why.

As though his own silence beckoned his boyfriend’s attention far more than usual, Sans squirmed on the spot. “sorry. didn’t mean to give you the cold shoulder.”

Grillby offered him an amused smirk, but didn’t reply. Instead, he slowly reached out to touch Sans’ skull, hesitating just a moment before his gloved hand met with the smooth bone. He must’ve been reading into it too much, as Sans exhaled a soft pleased sigh, rewarding the touch with a smile.

 _“Didn’t feel it,”_ Grillby assured him with a wink, his heart and soul giving a little skip when the skeleton leaned against his touch in appreciation.

He stayed like that for a moment, idly caressing Sans’ face before the skeleton gave in to a happy little laugh, then patted Grillby’s hand. He took that as a signal to part, but when Grillby attempted to pull his hand away, Sans kept it in place with his own.

“you on break yet?”

Grillby couldn’t help but smile at that and gently thumbed the skeleton’s cheekbone. _“…Could do that. I won’t be interrupting your… studies?”_ he enquired quietly.

Sans looked to his notebook and gave in to a sigh. “i think i hit a wall, to be honest,” he admitted a little sourly.

 _“What has been keeping your attention from me?”_ Grillby teased, the crack of his smile evident when Sans looked at him sharply, a blush tinting his face a brilliant blue. The fire monster glanced away briefly, as though reconsidering his wording. _“…I do hope that my teasing is not… making you uncomfortable.”_

Sans gave Grillby’s hand a pat and slid down with an embarrassed chuckle. “it just keeps catchin’ me off guard.” When Grillby pulled his hand away, the skeleton shrugged. “makes me think about stuff, at any rate.”

The fire monster tilted his head, flames licking up his face in askance. Sans caught the look and flushed again, his eye lights falling downcast.

“just… stuff. nothin’ important.”

Although Grillby could recall Sans’ admittance that he didn’t normally entertain more tender thoughts unless he was around _him,_ the bartender couldn’t help the grin that cracked his face.

_“Well then… I shall leave you to your entertaining internal reflection.”_

Sans grimaced as though pained. “don’t say it like that…”

The fire monster only chuckled and gave Sans’ skull another brief pass before he moved away with a knowing hum.

The more he thought about it, the more Sans began to hesitate.

It had been hours since he’d come back from Grillby’s, since their awkward conversation. There was something wrong, that Grillby definitely knew something was bothering him, and with that, crumbled any amount of resolve that Sans had tentatively built up.

What would Grillby do if he found out what he was planning? How would he feel? Would he reject him? The idea altogether?

The very notion that the fire monster would refuse his proposition made his soul clench and twist as though he was being consumed. Sans ended up throwing his notebook into his desk after staring it down, frustrated with himself.

If not a dimensional box as he’d initially planned, what could he do? How could he help?

Taking Grillby across the Underground again wasn’t an option. The dangers the ferry posed made it too risky. But he couldn’t very well keep Grillby locked up out of fear for him, right? He was an adult and could take care of himself. The expensive option was that his freight couriered clear across the Underground made a daunting bill upon delivery. And with Grillby’s being closed for close to a week, he doubted Grillby had the funds to manage, despite how well-off he appeared…

But that left the skeleton with the apprehension that somewhere, someone had their eyes on him. And that someone had made an attempt on his life.

Sans stood alone in his room, his eye lights searching around the scuffed, worn-down carpet as though it held answers for him.

It didn’t, but that isn’t what frustrated Sans. What frustrated him was that he was trying to find a proper solution that made everyone happy. His own self-preservation being as it was, he conceded that he couldn’t… no, _wouldn’t_ ignite another box. Despite said box being the only logical way for Grillby’s life to be much easier… Sans couldn’t hold the weight of the decision.

Or could he?

Groaning in aggravation, the skeleton pulled open the desk drawer once more, his expression set in a frown.

No.

He couldn’t.

He didn’t _want_ to.

But what other choice did he have?

It seemed as though he had agonised the decision for days instead of hours. And all because Grillby noted something ‘off’ about him. Sans knew he couldn’t keep secrets from the fire monster - the guy was far too versed in picking up body language to rely solely on what was said. It was the unspoken, needling feeling Sans got whenever he knew Grillby was waiting for him to open up.

It was difficult, but Sans forced himself to close the drawer again, this time with the notebook in hand.

Maybe…. He would go to Hotland. Clear his head. Get a second pair of eyes to look things over.

If worse came to worst, at least Alphys could help him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Way back, a loooong time ago, someone commented and said that Papyrus should have told Sans that he looked tired... and so did Grillby, and that they should 'sleep together'. I thought the idea was cute so here it is, hehe. ~~They really should omg.~~
> 
> I'm still alive! Starting to roll things in Postcards again after a brief, unplanned break. UwU Sorry for the wait! It's such a weird thing to post so late after having a weekly schedule for so long. Enjoy! :D
> 
> Art made for me since the last update ;w;  
> [kay](https://kaythegoodghost.tumblr.com/) drew the magic-cycling scene from chapter 63 which you can [view here!](https://skerbbie.tumblr.com/post/182392704805/)  
> [sfwrecyclingpile](https://sfwrecyclingpile.tumblr.com) made ch 3(-4) art which you can [view here!](https://skerbbie.tumblr.com/post/182392762165/)  
> [popato-chisps](https://popato-chisps.tumblr.com/) did an amazing animation for a secret santa we were in which you can [view here!](https://skerbbie.tumblr.com/post/182392797260/)  
> [thefloatingstone/C-Puff](https://thefloatingstone.tumblr.com/) has done AMAZING work on the ch 21 art which you can [view here!](https://skerbbie.tumblr.com/post/182392830740/)


	4. Chapter 4

For whatever reason, Grillby just wasn’t good at the whole ‘inquisition’ method when it came to obtaining information. Relying heavily on things that were just said in passing at the restaurant, it was difficult to keep a figurative ear open for leads while also being attentive during working hours.

Sans had told him that he was going away during a brief text message exchange late in the evening, on the day that he and the skeleton had their last encounter. At the time it hadn’t felt awkward, but now looking back Grillby wasn’t quite sure.

It had not been apparent what Sans was up to during his studies, but Grillby conceded that the skeleton’s sombre mood held more secrets than he would let on. He tried not to feel as though it was the same weighty silence that stretched between them before the other’s rebound, but the worry intruded upon his thoughts like wildfire.

He tried to dismiss the train of thought, but every time Grillby looked back to his last interaction with Sans, all he could do was wonder. Why had Sans hid the notebook? Why was he distracted? Had he been around when Sans shifted into a reclusive state, closed his mind off, and..?

Grillby couldn’t help but ponder over the specifics, but it wasn’t long before the main line of the bar’s old rotary phone jangled in the din of the dinner rush. He’d been expecting a call back from his contact in the warehousing district of New Home, to schedule an order for delivery. The fire monster had to use every thread of his reserves not to balk at the estimate, but the Diamond Head monster assured him of payment plans that seemed reasonable.

 _Seemed,_ but Grillby knew otherwise. Still, it wasn’t as though a full cart across the Underground was the most reasonable of requests. And thus, the cost. He restrained the urge to sigh as he answered the call, a little more crisply than normally.

“oh. heya. bad time?”

Grillby uprighted himself as his eyes flitted across the restaurant floor, as though those in the bar could hear the phone call as well. A kindled flood of warmth passed through his flames at Sans’ candid tone, tinny and far-off but as jovial as ever. Interesting, when he had been distant before.

 _“Not at all,”_ Grillby finally murmured, a vague smile touching the corners of his mouth, and his tone was pleasant with the way that it hummed and crackled. Speaking with Sans always did that. _“How is Hotland?”_

“hot. quick q, but what’s your favourite colour?” Sans demanded.

Grillby tried not to belabour it too long, but he had the feeling that once Sans got his answer, he’d hang up. _“What is this?”_

“what’s what?”

The fire monster gestured a bit vaguely to no one in particular, toying with the coiled cord in one hand as he turned in place. He hesitated when he caught a look from Red and turned his back to him, unable to hide the muted flush that passed through his flames when he had caught the knowing brow waggle.

 _“Why the… secrecy?”_ Grillby managed to mumble. Unlike him, but he felt suddenly self-conscious.

It seemed to catch the skeleton off-guard, as Sans suddenly grunted, then chuckled. “oh. what, i can’t plan somethin’ special?”

The fire monster’s flames reddened akin to being chagrined. He kept perfectly still, save for the movement of his ambient firelight. Should he call Sans out on his lie, or was he actually planning something..? It didn’t feel the same as before. Sans was hiding something, and it had nothing to do with his proposed date. Yet at the same time, he was hiding his investigation from Sans…

 _“Really,”_ Grillby breathed, trying to sound like his usual interested self.

Another pause came from the other end. “yeah. i mean…” Grillby heard a jittered voice from the background of the call and realised Sans likely had company. They were giving their input. Sans suddenly became agitated, “what? no way, jus.. just go over there. lemme handle this. - uh, grillby..?”

The fire monster’s soul fluttered when he heard his name, although the reason why, he couldn’t say. He opened his mouth to reply but stopped, not really knowing how to react.

“uh… big g?” Sans tried again.

Grillby swallowed his nerves. _“I’m here.”_

Sans laughed as though to himself, “m’glad. so…”

Silence passed between them so clearly that Grillby was sure he could hear the hum of a microwave in the background, and when it shut off too.

_“So..?”_

“your fave colour, grillby.”

_There it was again…_

It was harder to restrain this time. Grillby felt as though he was surged with gasoline, or like a lightning bolt went through him. But a _good_ one. He tried speaking again, yet was effectively muzzled by the other’s innocently uttered words.

“grillby?”

No, Grillby thought, his face burning brighter. He _knew_ saying it was doing this to him.

 _“Yes,”_ it sounded a lot drier than he’d meant it to and the bartender’s aura flared up hotter. _“I’m still here.”_

“the colour?” There was definitely a teasing lilt, as though Sans was amused by the delay.

 _“B-”_ Grillby beamed in embarrassment, finally hissing out; _“Blues, violets, reds…”_

The skeleton was chuckling again and Grillby had to shove down the embarrassment he felt at Red’s snickering from across the counter. It was to the point that small embers were popping off from him, and his flames were whispering for him to say something _spicy_ in retaliation.

“pretty ones, eh. ok, _grillby,_ i’ll make sure i got that. blues an’ hues. nice an’ light, right?” Sans hummed in consideration until Grillby made a noise in the affirmative. “ok. gotcha. thanks, grillby. lov…” Sans stopped, his breath turning into a bit of a shudder while Grillby’s heart and soul thrummed with excitement. “…well. _you_ know.”

The fire monster idly twisted the cord in his hand, worries swallowed up by the genuine way Sans teased him and even came _so close_ as to say it… once more. He would’ve loved to tease Sans in turn, but ended up only giving in to a quiet chuckle.

“i can’t say it `cause i got the world’s hugest multishipper breathin’ down my neck and she’s gonna fog up the phone line if it’s even mentioned. so, uh…”

 _“You know,”_ Grillby considered suddenly, _“can’t very well fathom why you’d refrain from saying so, when you’re just aching for it.”_

He could hear a strangled noise come from Sans, and Grillby just _knew_ that he was missing out on some rather dear reactions.

Did he also have any hang-ups on saying it? Or would the fire monster rather Sans be in front of him so that he could witness the favourite shade of blue? The one that Grillby always felt a longing for ever since he’d first seen it?

Parting his mouth so that he could get a rolling start on it, his fire mingled in the tone to hide it from any eavesdroppers. Fire guiding the path through the air, he whispered in a way that he knew Sans would figure out. It didn’t hold words, but his fire held deeper meaning, subtleties and feeling beyond sound. It was there, as he heard another startled noise come from the skeleton, barely restrained but fully shocked. Grillby could only imagine how full-blown the other had flushed once his fire’s intent was made known to him.

It was made even more evident when Sans’ company was suddenly heard with a veiled attempt at muting their shriek, but it was covered by Sans’ endearing half-attempts at words.

“y.. you’re a… i mean, cheatin’, `c-cause…”

Grillby composed himself enough to give in to a mock disapproving tone, _“Sans, honestly. Whatever am I going to do with you?”_

He was sure the resulting whimper was supposed to be a retort or even something coherent, but it was neither and this pleased Grillby more than it probably should have.

_“One point or two?”_

Sans seemed to break out of his momentary shock, “none, y’cheater.”

Grillby clicked his tongue again. _“Pity.”_

“o-ok. blues, r-reds. that’s all i, uh… i needed… th-thanks-”

 _“Hold on,”_ the fire monster interrupted, _“what’s the cause for all this secrecy?”_

“it’s a secret.”

Grillby prevented himself from outright sighing in exasperation but collected himself nonetheless. _“A good secret, or a… not good secret?”_

“grillby, c’mon. i said it was a surprise?”

 _“It’s just…”_ Grillby floundered in an effort not to get too worked up about it. But a day overthinking things while also becoming frustrated that his investigation was turning up with no leads, made him stressed and feeling as though there was something intentionally being kept from him. _“…Nerve-wracking.”_

“does fire even got nerves?”

Grillby pinched the bridge between his eyes, unable to repress the soft sigh.

“sorry. promise, i’m ok and i’m doin’ just fine, if you’re that worried.”

 _“It’s… just that, the last time things were… quiet.......”_ Grillby stopped, guilt twisting around in his chest so much that it was sure to be visibly evident that he was uncomfortable.

After a moment, Sans let out a nearly endless “ohhhhhh” in response. As though he got it, which Grillby wasn’t sure how. “you’re worried i’m gonna dust myself doin’ somethin’ stupid.”

_“What-”_

“ok, well, for starters, m’not,” Sans all but drawled, but Grillby detected the bite of irritation in his tone. “and kinda annoyed `bout that, but… heh.”

_“Trust me when I say that hadn’t passed my mind!”_

“oh. well, ok then.” Sans paused as though considering it. “i dunno what to tell you, then.”

Grillby’s eyes flickered and glanced around the bar once more, noting that several patrons had been trying to flag him down. He gestured a little distractedly that he’d be there in one moment, then carefully cleared his throat.

_“Perhaps… been overthinking it. And unused to such… lengthy periods of silence as of late?”_

“it’s nothin’ sinister, grillbz.” Grillby could practically hear the nonchalant shrug from the other side of the call. “i just wanna keep it a surprise.”

_“So it’s… nothing out of the ordinary.”_

“nope.”

Grillby wrapped the cord around his finger, then uncoiled it, unable to keep the worry from swelling inside of him. _“Suppose I will just… have to wait,”_ he muttered carefully.

“aw. careful, man. i already got one bag of bones worryin’ for me. i’m trustin’ you to be a little more down to earth.”

 _“Do not have a single bone in me,”_ Grillby chided him with a gentle chuckle. _“Bagged or otherwise.”_

“well. not yet, anyway-” Then Sans made a strangled sound as Grillby felt his temperature rise, unable to stop the sudden gust of laughter that escaped him. “god damn it, i’m hangin’ up!” And then he did.

The interaction left him feeling a little better, as Sans seemed less distracted and more like his usual self. It was easier to focus on the restaurant after the call, when all he could think about was Sans and the flirty little slip-up - and what it entailed. It gave him a more pronounced flush throughout the rest of the evening, to say the least. Grillby was glad the malaise that he’d felt had been apparently his own worries getting to the best of him.

Regardless of how long the day felt without Sans there, the evening was more pleasant and had slowed to its usual pace. It was so quiet that Grillby was able to concentrate on the meticulous cleaning he’d subjected the bar to ever since Bonnie and everyone else had helped out. It was the only problem with having such attention to detail, but it kept his hands busy when they wanted to text the skeleton at the opposite end of the Underground instead.

He wondered what kind of surprise Sans had in store for him. He seemed jovial enough and even carefree. Grillby had already decided that he had no grounds for worry and that he wasn’t just becoming paranoid. It happened every so often, and with the peculiar things that happened lately, it was just adding to the thundering heap of stress in his head.

So Grillby continued, rag in hand, polishing and wiping down the countertop in an aim to distract himself. He really had no idea what Sans was planning. Something to do with his favoured hues… and that it was a secret.

He didn’t know how to take that. Perhaps Sans was taking initiative when it came to their fourth date? If he was planning a gift, Grillby had to think that he didn’t expect Sans to be the sort. To him, showing affection in the form of gifts seemed too over the top or unnecessary, but Grillby had followed the custom to show his appreciation for the skeleton who had escorted him across the Underground and back.

Yet, he had to wonder at which point would he stop numbering their dates and from there, when would they stop planning them altogether? Would they just go someplace, stay in, all in the spur of the moment? Perhaps tucked in bed where it was warm, where Sans would huddle close to him as though he couldn’t get enough of him… Grillby smiled to himself. He did rather like that feeling.

So when the gust of air came in from the door, the fire monster was pulled from his thoughts and out of habit, he glanced at the clock. It was almost 11:00pm, perhaps a few minutes to spare before closing.

It hadn’t happened for the longest time, but an old visitor came to the bar. They were soft spoken and they used words in a way that addled the mind. Of course, they would wait until everyone was safely at home to come for a drink, and with Grillby’s only recently reopened, the fire monster had forgotten their visits entirely until he saw the dark cloak and the smooth shifting movement from the door.

He’d never had the chance to figure out the river person's name or assumed pronouns, but the way they moved in ethereal fluidity made his flames stutter out in protest every time. He gestured accommodatingly to one of the seats at the counter, readying himself for any myriad of riddles the river person would speak to him in lieu of actual conversation.

Out of habit, Grillby fetched a highball glass and stepped to the side to allow the stranger a view of the wall of alcohol. He watched as the river person moved in a way that confused the mind, slipping over the closest stool and hunching over the counter as though they were resting arms they didn’t have upon it.

Silence stretched on and Grillby knew that he was likely going to be the one doing all the talking. He was a little perturbed at the way his visitor had behaved on the way back from his and Sans’ first date. And if he were more proactive in offending others, Grillby would have liked to call them out on it.

But yet he didn’t, and the countertop got shinier the longer the river person stayed quiet and Grillby defaulted to wiping it down as he waited.

 _“Anything I can get for you, friend…?”_ the fire monster enquired, more brusquely than he’d intended. He stared into the hood where the monster’s face would’ve been. Should have been. Any other monster’s would be revealed by his ambient glow, but the mass of pitch behind the hood’s shadow was as though it swallowed in the light and cut it away, hiding it from view.

_‘A milk, a rat, a cage and a bat.’_

Grillby felt the tension in his shoulders but he moved fluidly, reaching up to grab an oblong amber bottle from the top shelf. Of course it would be their usual, but he never wanted to assume with them.

 _“Been awhile since you have graced my establishment,”_ the fire monster attempted small talk. _“You must forgive me. I… had not been feeling well. Things are going well for you?”_

They inclined their head - that is, the shadows that filled the hood did so. Grillby somehow resisted the overpowering urge to shudder.

Why was small talk so difficult with others? Grillby lamented his shy nature, while seemingly bold around Sans and those he knew, strangers made him feel ill at ease. It was amongst one of the many reasons why he moved from the busy city life in Hotland to the small sleepy town of Snowdin, where everyone knew everyone else. The river person was amongst those who made him purpetually uneasy, despite them coming around at odd nights. Usually twice a week. Grillby still couldn’t shake the malaise.

So as he mixed the other’s drink, the bartender went over it in his mind. The river person had made no warning as to the dangers that posed on that day. Or rather, they were vague, infuriatingly so, but… was that not _always_ the case? The bartender resisted the urge to give in to a shrug, as though to himself, stirring the candy-red liquor and a muddled mixture of nuts and fragrant herbs, alongside a shot of milk. The _Rat’s Nest_ was a drink he kept on the menu only for this patron. No one else ordered it.

 _“Interesting things happening lately,”_ he attempted again, despite how awkward he suddenly felt with the clichéd way to break the ice. _“How have the floods and earthquakes treated you lately?”_

The hooded figure stayed sitting, unmoving, yet staring at him. Grillby allowed the silence to pass for a few more moments, mentally congratulating himself for keeping his flames under control.

 _“Suppose it has always been dangerous work. Civilians such as we need to keep our sights in all directions, lest we find our defenses… compromised.”_ He surveyed his guest once more and since there weren’t any tells as to if he had overstepped any social line, Grillby continued. _“Know it is only hearsay and rumours… however, there had been word earlier of someone attacking monsters. Seemingly random, others hint otherwise,”_ he lied, not feeling particularly fond of it. _“Figure, on your dailies, would one happen across any information as to the truth upon such… unfathomable worries?”_

The stranger leaned forward again and their robe moved, as though to suggest that they actually did have limbs - the naked eye just wasn’t able to perceive them. They still appeared fixed on their drink and although Grillby couldn’t see it, there was a chill when the river person sucked in an audible breath.

_‘An untended garden becomes overgrown.’_

Then, with whatever invisible appendage that they may or may not own, they brought their drink up to the opening of their hood. The contents of the glass slowly drained away into the pitch blackness.

Grillby hummed and shifted his weight, considering the riddle. It was always a riddle. Monsters from all walks of life appreciated a good puzzle, but Grillby’s patience was wearing thin after so long of quizzing people if they had seen or heard anything suspicious. So he had resorted to being bold with his questioning, and the river person was his first victim, in that regard.

Little did he know that it would be so effective. And that the river person would be willing to speak, however awkward as it was. Now to decipher the meaning of it. Gardens were generally used when communities were involved, but beyond the riddle, Grillby couldn’t fathom anyone who would have intent to harm Sans in their town - nor even in the whole of the Underground. Another meaning could be more literal; that it was literally a garden, or a plot of land, or foliage-

Grillby started with that as a memory clicked into place. Of course, he’d been so concerned over the water that he’d nearly forgotten it at the time.

_Vines._

Was the river person actually being forward? Was it a literal hint? Grillby had remembered the way his flames had echoed delight in wanting to bloom up into the cavern, to latch on and consume the source of vegetation with reckless abandon.

Perhaps he was stretching things in his head, but Grillby felt unsettled.

 _“Ferry,”_ he addressed them, no longer knowing what to call them after so long. The river person inclined their head to show that they were listening and the glass lowered just under the bottom of their hood, its contents down to half-full. _“…Do not suppose you would be able to entertain me a few more riddles? More… of an agricultural nature?”_

Flames sputtered from his neck with another rattled breath, almost as though the river person’s voice was clamouring up the walls in the caverns they stayed in. Grillby realised that he was staring, and that they were likely staring back. Awkwardly, the fire monster adjusted his glasses and made to busy his hands, collecting the mortar and pestle he’d used to muddle the herbs together.

That’s when he paused - or rather, he was made to pause. His right hand had been covered by something unseen, draped in an invisible cloth, lightweight in touch yet firm. The cloak of the other monster’s side was hitched up a little as though the arm was outreached, and the river person was leaning forward in earnest.

 _‘Forward… back. Forward, forward. Back,’_ they murmured, voice a soft lilting song while the unseen hand was pulled away. They reclined a little past the stool’s centre of gravity, onto an invisible back of a chair that wasn’t there and for a moment, Grillby thought he saw a grin that envied Sans’. It wasn’t there when he blinked. _‘Tre le le~ It’s Friday today. It was Thursday before. It will be Wednesday again.’_

Grillby really detested working out ciphered language.

The conversation was slow-going. Grillby plucked at the remnants of herbs in the mortar bowl, long-discarding his gloves in favour of engulfing the small twigs and seeds to vent his frustrations.

Taking what the other had meant about ‘Wednesday’, he’d worked it out. The river person had noted Sans’ disappearance during those days, Grillby figured. Tuesday was when Sans had kept away after their misunderstanding. Thanks to Papyrus’ quizzing the royal scientist, they were able to find out that Sans had ignited the box on Wednesday, early in the morning. It wasn’t until Thursday that Papyrus had found him.

Grillby felt ill, but at least he knew that the other monster was on the same subject as him.

 _“Yes… that is my enquiry,”_ he murmured, hesitating as he perched himself on the stool behind the counter across from them. Grillby couldn’t swallow the knot that formed in his throat. It refused to burn away, to dispel, to give him any relief. He knew he was putting all his eggs in one basket. He was being impatient with someone who not only was his patron, but also spoke in an entirely different language.

Still, the lumpy tightness did not wane and Grillby felt frozen on the spot, unable to move as he hesitated and delayed his last question.

 _“So… someone had actually made an attempt on Sans’ life?”_ Grillby felt shame and anger surge inside of him when his voice cracked and snapped, betraying his emotions. _“Who would do such a thing!?”_

The river person was studying him again and the fire monster was trying not to erupt on the spot. His fire curled along his frame, busting from the open ends of his clothing and scorching the bowl and its contents. It shifted in hues, writhing on the edge of white and gold, light blues and an unnatural brightness that Grillby found that he couldn’t smother.

He was ripping apart at the very idea of someone hurting Sans. It welled up inside of him, trying to thrash out despite every wisp of him attempting to keep himself under control. It flared up from his neck and shoulders, from in between his gloves and shirt cuffs. It was dangerous to lose himself. Yet all Grillby wanted to do was immolate entirely, for all his stress to filter out in hot waves until it was gone and he felt both relieved and empty inside.

Several glass bottles, including the amber liquor on the counter, cracked and leaked their contents, until Grillby forced himself to pull his heat inwards again. After such an explosive reaction, the bartender felt tired and ragged, and looked just as bad.

It was awhile before the bartender could relax, to the point where most of the oxygen had burnt out of the air and his guest had calmly finished their drink. Grillby came down from the frenetic heat, inhaling shortly, drawing out the breath before releasing it and leaning back on his stool. He was more muted than before, but anything that shone after a magnesium flare would look dull by comparison.

_“…Forgive me.”_

_‘The Sun is far away today, tri li li~’_

_You’re off the mark,_ Grillby internally figured, his soul twisting with disappointment as his emotions fizzled out, frayed and exhausted. He had felt too much in the span of time that the river person had allowed him to simmer, and now everything felt raw and unstable, yet far-off and detached.

_‘Tomorrow will be Wednesday.’_

_This makes no sense,_ the fire monster lamented with frustration. _It’s Thursday._ Why was he getting so worked up over the other hinting at days of the week? Perhaps in his mind, Grillby was worried that it would happen again. That Sans would be attacked again, and that _choked_ him.

_‘Soul shrinks. Hearts sink. Fears stink.’_

Grillby glowered at the patron, while the river person swivelled on their stool, seemingly pleased with themself.

_‘Sometimes, vines need pruning when the roots are rotted.’_

Grillby sighed, no longer understanding the line of thought. _“…You always get so chatty after.”_

 _‘Tre li la, tra li lu~’_ The mass inside of their hood shifted, making Grillby’s soul squirm in revulsion. _‘They say yellow is for friendship, but what about gold?’_

Grillby just shook his head. _“Gold has always been auspicious amongst monsters.”_

_‘When a stone falls at the edge of the world, does it make a sound when it lands?’_

_“It seems far-fetched, I know,”_ the fire monster sighed, defeated. _“…Was sincerely hoping for some light on the subject.”_ A light pun. Sans would have liked that. That revelation only made Grillby’s soul sink.

A roll in the other’s shoulder was akin to a shrug of indifference. _‘Tomorrow is Friday. A perfect day to do some gardening.’_

Grillby didn’t feel like gardening, but nodded anyway. The motion was more automatic than he cared for. If anything, he felt like burning every twig and blade of grass he could come into contact with, to make use of the pent-up aggression and frustration that he felt at being so helpless. After his outburst of emotion, everything was flat, hazy and strange. Like it was a step too far into what he was prepared to look into.

And yet…

He just wanted _answers._ Perhaps it was his naïvete, but he was hoping that his search would have come up that it was all a mistake. That no one wanted to harm one of the best people in his life.

When his last patron left and he locked up for the night, his bed didn’t feel as warm as Grillby remembered it being. Nor did his eyes feel as heavy as they used to be. His arms felt immeasurably empty and his chest felt tight with a certain spike of fear.

_They say yellow is for friendship, but what about gold?_

Grillby searched the bleary expanse in front of him, focusing on nothing yet everything, his mind skirting on a dense hopelessness that only grew the longer he lay there by himself.

What did the meaning of coloured flowers have to do with anything…?

He couldn’t say. He slept fitfully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [polygonHexagon](https://twitter.com/HexagonPolygon/status/1094797870560100353) drew ch 53 art [here!!!!!](https://skerbbie.tumblr.com/post/182728722805) ;w;
> 
> Just.... fyi..... next chapter is gonna have some smut........................


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **content warning(s):** sexual content

And so Sans went back. He’d felt the aching in his chest the entire time after the phone call. The ache turned to longing, longing to fretting. He would never admit it, as stubborn as he was, but he could always go back and spend the night with Grillby. He was sure Alphys would understand. There was just that calming feeling that came over him whenever he slept in Grillby’s arms, and he felt as though he’d fuss all night if he didn’t leave just then.

He didn’t remember much of the journey, only that he had walked instead of opting for a shortcut. The details were a little hazy, stretched out and unimportant. Did he get dressed? Creep out of the lab? Had he texted Alphys to let her know he’d be back later? He must’ve.

He should’ve thought that something was amiss when he didn’t run into anyone else along the way. Nor did he recall which door he’d opened to Grillby’s restaurant, or how many steps up to his suite.

Oddly enough, his soul was pounding again. In his mind, Sans felt the strongest pull towards the fire monster and sought to be near him, ignoring everything else. He heard the crackle of fire further into the suite, felt its radiant light permeate his bones as though it were a beam of sunlight. The hallway to the living room was dully lit, but it didn’t feel like Grillby’s heat was missing altogether.

Again, Sans felt somehow detached from it all until he peered around the open door, eye lights seeking out the one he had referred to as ‘him’ with reverence in the quiet of his heart.

Sans’ soul quivered when he saw the fire monster curled in the lit fireplace, huddled close to one side of the wall. An arm was loosely draped around his torso and Grillby had a gentle look about him. At first, Sans felt the well of panic surge up inside of him and he parted his teeth to ask if he wasn’t feeling well after all. Or perhaps something else had happened, and Grillby was forced to keep the restaurant closed even longer to recuperate.

Still, Sans hesitated in coming forward, even when Grillby beckoned him closer. The skeleton shivered as the worry persisted, the dark thought worming its way to smother the warm glow that had overcome him.

As fine as Grillby appeared, Sans couldn’t let his gaze linger on him for too long. He shifted where he stood, not knowing what to say this time. Instead, his eye lights lingered on the smooth stone and shine of quartz along the hearth and how it enveloped Grillby’s form. He thought it looked much larger than the one at the inn, but he couldn’t be sure. Sans tried to see where Grillby’s body began and the true fire ended, to no avail. It was so perfectly matched that, had he the mind for it, Sans would’ve thought Grillby was blanketed in it, an extension of himself.

Grillby outreached his hand, barely past the opening of the hearth and the crack of his mouth widened with invitation. Sans’ soul felt as though it was reverberating, resonating with everything inside to take that hand and just let things be as they were.

But even if Grillby was composed of magical fire, the element in the fireplace was _hot._ Sans had tested candles and lighters enough to know pain when he was burned, so he hesitated. Not just with the thought of self-preservation, but something else too. Something hidden deep inside that was frightened for what Grillby’s unspoken invitation meant.

His mouth feeling drier than it had ever felt before, Sans pushed out a soft breath, his sight still trained on the fire monster’s waiting hand.

“i can’t.”

Grillby gave him a look. He knew the look. It was a look that said _“Oh really?”_ in a dare to challenge him otherwise. His eyes danced behind familiar glasses, bright and alive as the flames continued to lick over his form.

 _“You can.”_ There was gentle understanding under each word that Sans had to repress the urge to grimace under how foolish he suddenly felt.

Although, unless he said so, Grillby wouldn’t know his worries.

“i’ll burn,” he protested. Again, the strange depth of what he said tugged at his soul and Sans itched at his sternum to rub away the longing ache. It was as though his soul was anchored in place by a block of wood, and if he got too close… Well, he didn’t need to entertain the thought of what would happen if he did.

Instead, the fire monster smiled at him, likely thinking that Sans had said the most endearing thing in the world. Sans flushed in shame with the other’s hand expectantly waiting for him. He _wanted_ to reach out and touch it. He wanted so desperately to believe he wouldn’t burn and twist in agony.

_“No, you won’t.”_

Well, there was hardly any logic as to why Grillby would believe such a thing apart from being intimately tied with fire, but who was Sans to deny him? He had to, though… even if it felt otherwise. His soul believed him, hanging on a thread of worry that _maybe_ he was wrong. Perhaps he was clinging desperately to pessimism to protect himself just in case he _was_ wrong. But Grillby’s smile was infectious, kindled Sans’ sentiments and pulled at his heartstrings, snapping the thread of negativity.

Man, how could he say no to that?

Beyond that quiet rebuttal, Grillby waited in silence as Sans internally struggled. Once the skeleton had the courage to step forward, the fire monster’s tender smile broadened in silent victory. Nothing malicious lit up in his eyes, no tricks or riddles, only a tender warmth that flooded him. Sans started to very easily relax, to the point where taking the other’s hand was even considered an option.

Although the fire monster’s body hid crags and cracks from view, Grillby’s hands were smooth in that they were constantly worked. Fingers glided over Sans’ metacarpals, sliding up his bones and pressing heat into them, distant and distracting.

Sans couldn’t help but release a quiet chuckle, soul fluttering just a little more when he took another step forward with the accompanying tug. He approached the hearth, discarding his slippers with each step. In his rib cage blossomed even more warmth as Grillby leaned forward to pull him inside to join him. Flames, harmless and soft, brushed up his ulna and past his clothes, filling him with heat and a tender attentiveness that he only expected from Grillby.

He started slow, none-too-carefully pulling Sans into the heat with him, as though Grillby was anxious to be near. It was cosier on the inside, larger, sparks flying around them like fireflies from their movements. Sans buried the worry of being burned and instead allowed Grillby to cup his face, guiding him forward so he was close enough to kiss while Sans’ hands settled on each of Grillby’s shoulders.

Sweet kisses turned hot, melting on his tongue, pulling that familiar dull ache in his chest to move down, flowing past his arms to the sides of his ribs. They ignited the excited little gasps that caught in Sans’ conjured throat as his magic bloomed down. He couldn’t help the appreciative, low gravelly noise that escaped him when Grillby’s hands thumbed through the sides of his iliac crest.

 _“Liked that?”_ Grillby nipped at his neck and Sans inhaled a shuddering breath, only too eager to nod as the fire monster’s hands ventured further. He clenched his teeth, unbalanced and twitching on his knees while straddling Grillby’s lap so he’d have better access. 

He didn’t even have the mind to joke about anything, nor even tease about Grillby being handsy. Sans just gave in, aching to be touched, craving the flares of heat that sunk into his body to make it throb with want. It appeared that the fire monster craved the same, peppering his neck with sweet, firm kisses that lingered, driving Sans absolutely breathless as he clung to him.

In a haze, Sans let Grillby pull off his shirt (where had his hoodie gone?), hot fingers tracing along the curve of his ribs. The heat was so much that he thought that the fire was residing next to his soul, making it bubble and flicker. He whimpered with the overstimulation, choking on a sudden movement under his shorts where Grillby had taken to investigating in earnest. 

It was still distant, in a way. Sans felt as though he couldn’t get enough and he pressed against the fire monster, attempting to whisper something through the light around them. It buzzed and crackled, every word burned away when he tried again. The tips of Grillby’s fingers found the holes in his sacrum and Sans’ spine arched with a sharp cry when the other’s fingers dug into the sensitive bone.

“grillby…” he panted, hooking an arm over the fire monster’s shoulder. Soft, nonsensical noises were drawn from him as one of Grillby’s warm hands went a little higher, tracing aching circles up his spinal column, every bone lighting up and glowing in his touch’s wake.

Sans bent, unable to keep himself from teetering with the stimulation. While their first encounter had been exploratory, Grillby was now using that information to undo him, and quickly. Sans attempted to keep himself upright as Grillby’s hand trailed down the front of his spinal column again, his flaming wrist laying over his pubic symphysis. With the steady heat there, the skeleton couldn’t help the low moan that crept out of him despite how much he wanted to hold back, punctuated by the flirty fingertips that trickled down the plain of his sacrum.

Still, it didn’t feel like it was _real._ Unable to help another whimper, Sans trusted that Grillby would be good to him. His soul was thrumming hard behind his ribs within the heat, a continuous pitter that echoed every want and desire Sans had.

Sans jerked, realising just what he was holding back; his _magic._ It suffused his bones everywhere Grillby touched, making the joints between his bones glow with his hues. He hummed as the fire monster grabbed at him, hungry for more kisses, wanting to taste and give in to all the needy touches.

His mouth was flooded with fire as hands eased down past the waistband of his shorts and down further, sending sparks of delight up his spine at the same time. Sans huffed, finally remembering how to use his own hands as he pawed at the fire monster for more, a laugh caught at the end of every excited breath. He was being humoured, a hand balancing his spine as Grillby lowered him, sinking down with him.

He felt loved. He felt excited. Everything burned but it wasn’t painful, only an ethereal brush against Sans’ bones that sunk down to his core. He arched his spine into Grillby’s touch, a shameful noise escaping him that made his face burn when the other’s hand dipped into the cradle of his pelvis, fire mingling with magic. Grillby only grinned at him in response, leaning down and peppering kisses over the expanse of his sternum. They drew breathless sounds from Sans as he squirmed with the pleasure it brought.

His soul was full of love, that little unbidden word that stopped at the tip of Sans’ tongue whenever he tried to say it out loud. It pulsed through him. Even though Sans had no idea what he was doing, his body seemed to. He arched again as a particularly deft rub sank against the bottom of his spine, forcing magic to collect around his pelvis in delicious agony.

“f.. feels good,” Sans urged Grillby on. A higher yelp escaped him when those warm hands found the middle bridge of his spine and sacrum, thumbs resting and bracing the area to permeate it with heat. Blearily, the skeleton looked up to Grillby’s face, nodding his consent as his phalanges dug needily into the mattress under him.

(There was a mattress in the fireplace?)

A little detached again, Sans sighed long, allowing the pleasure of Grillby’s hands to ripple through him. He straddled the other’s lap, warmth nudged against his naked pelvis where magic collected, ready to be put to use.

He flushed at the mental observation, embarrassed for where his mind had gone. That he was prepared for anything Grillby would give or share with him. Now having a better inkling as to what he’d have to do, Sans felt nervousness crawl over him, melanging with the licks of flame that cascaded down and into the space between his ribs and hips. He squirmed a little with the ethereal touch while Grillby pulled him up so his pelvis lay perfectly in the fire monster’s lap.

It was still difficult to see where Grillby began and the fire ended, but it didn’t matter. Sans grinned up at him, the smile soft and accepting, thinking that maybe Grillby was so excited to touch him that his body was out of control. Just like before.

Sans closed his eye sockets as Grillby’s hand moved further, feeling his way up into his rib cage, only to turn in the empty space and trace his hot fingertips over his ribs from the inside. It prodded at a darker memory but the skeleton trembled under the touch as it lit him from the inside, sensitive and tingling through every fibre of his being. The dark feeling vanished, burned away by Grillby’s attention. The thought that the fire monster was testing boundaries by reaching so far into his rib cage made Sans’ breath hitch nervously.

He moaned softly, hands moving down to flex onto the other’s thighs as his magic coiled in the space of his hipbox with reckless abandon. He wouldn’t allow it to form, as that would mean it would be over soon, and Sans was very sure he wanted the gratuitous touching to continue.

A little prick at the back of his mind forced him to open his eye sockets again, first one before the other, to settle his gaze on the fire monster. Grillby still grinned at him, but something in his eyes showed sadness. His fire was sputtering too, deepening in hue, shifting the longer Sans watched him. There was such a contrast that it was easier to see where Grillby’s body and the fire ended.

But that wasn’t the only thing that grabbed Sans’ attention. Something in him panicked when he saw his right leg held in Grillby’s grasp as the fire monster leaned back, apparently distraught at what he had done. Sans swallowed thickly, that distant fear coiling up inside of him when he saw the hairline fracture chip up into his patella, only to continue up his femur with a series of chipping sounds.

He grabbed at the travelling crack, his soul suddenly feeling tight as he pressed around his leg to stop the break. Sans’ eye sockets widened when he looked up, just catching what Grillby had said.

_“I just want you to be safe.”_

Him grabbing onto the break didn’t help, but the fright built up faster than what he was prepared for. Sans’ breaths picked up, his hands shaking, causing dust to fall between his phalanges and onto the bed. He whimpered when his leg shivered and went lax as the magic connected to it suddenly seized and gave up. Cloying, powdery grey ashes stuck to his hands as it crumbled. It felt as though he’d forgotten how to keep himself together and how to puppeteer everything smoothly.

He panicked.

“n.. no, no no, please-” Sans begged himself, now feeling the twinge of loss when the hearth-turned-room suddenly went dark, cold and empty. He looked around the darkness, unable to keep himself from shaking and his breaths from stuttering in fright.

He was vulnerable and alone with no sign of the fire monster anywhere. He choked on a wet sob, not realising that tears had collected in his sockets and he was alone and bare on the cold earth.

Sans’ body jolted when he reopened his eye sockets, shivering, cold and gasping. The slow-running fans above him circled like hawks and it took several moments before Sans realised where he was. He held a breath, releasing it in fragile little bursts as he leaned back into the blanket that cocooned him.

What the hell was that dream? He’d had weird dreams before, but that one was _definitely_ up there. It was… certainly the first. As it turned out, having increasingly bold flirting sessions with Grillby had sparked up some peculiar ideas in his subconscious. Sans rubbed at his face, trying to bury the embarrassed heat.

His mind was still racing and distant, trapped between the dreaming world and being awake. He pulled the thick yellow blanket off his legs, visibly relieved when his right one was still attached and unharmed. Of course it was. Why would it be any different than when he’d gone to sleep?

The clock on his phone showed 3:24am. Too late for a midnight snack, too early for breakfast. Still, after a dream like _that,_ which also had devolved into a general freakout over his own mortality, well… Sans didn’t feel like going back to sleep just then.

He was used to nightmares about his own mortality. He could deal with those. Having racy dreams about his boyfriend, however… that was new and he wasn’t quite sure on how to process it.

So he shuffled into his slippers and made his way down the hall to the washroom, thinking a shower would clear his head and settle his all too present nerves. A foreign feeling was concentrated on his spine, but he decided to pointedly ignore the way it whispered a trail down his vertebrae in uncomfortable fluidity.

He’d have a better look at it behind closed doors, not out in the open with all the cameras, and… visitors. He hadn’t detected any, but Sans trusted the lab as much as he remembered about the place. Which wasn’t too much, considering all the malaise that hung thickly in the air lately.

The cooling system was generating a gentle chill as Hotland’s climate permeated the building, something Sans had grown fond of now. He locked the door after going into the washroom, flicking on the light and squinting around to find his bearings. There was a stand-up shower enclosed in glass panes on the other side of the room, a couple of folded towels and one large mirror that had old stickers of various cartoon characters plastered on it.

Sans very quickly snapped out of his half-stupor when he caught his reflection in the mirror. Admittedly, it had been awhile since he’d looked into one, as he never cared to and Papyrus always checked up on him anyway. He had no real reason to. Yet Sans was certain that something had changed about himself since he last checked.

He turned the lock on the door knob and sighed.

He approached the mirror, his teeth closed in a hard neutral line, barely tugged at each side. The light that shone on him from the vanity above the sink in yellow, contrasting his magic to make it take on a mildewy green. He tilted his head as he got a better look, eye lights fixed on his reflection while he hooked his finger behind his neck and pulled his shirt over his head.

The same familiar glow presented itself again and Sans still felt that peculiar, warm little trickle down his spine. Since his shirt had been lowered in front of him, it took him a moment before Sans realised that he was… leaking.

Emitting… something.

Sans looked down, a flash of words and chapters and, _god,_ all the texts that he’d read. ‘Surprise’ should not be his initial reaction when that dream had been everything he wanted and more - save for the end, really. Sans caught his reflection in the mirror again when he saw his face flushed, then he rather pointedly avoided his own look, abashed.

Normally he wouldn’t touch his soul. Normally reaching into the cavern between his ribs and his spine was an extreme trespass, but he reached up, touching the space nestled deep in his rib cage where the slick fluid slipped down. He gave in to a shudder, squeezing his eye sockets closed with a quiet huff when he touched upon the wet vertebrae, then drew his hand away. It came back with something silvery, fluid and… slimey.

Gross. But he knew what it was.

More embarrassment. He tested it, rubbing his phalanges together. It was very viscous and clung to his bones, difficult to rub away. He swallowed thickly, tossed his shirt into the sink and shoved his shorts down. He discarded those too, and made a quick stride to the shower. He blatantly ignored the way his pelvis was still filled with magic, confused and ready.

Sans buried the thought, but even when he pulled the levers in the shower to turn on, the falling water didn’t cleanse them away. Instead, the water pressure drummed against his body, pinpointing every inch of him that was aflame and aroused. He tried to ignore it by washing the slick from his hand, then attempted to rub the rest from his body.

It only ended up making the situation a little worse. Rubbing at his spine, trying to soothe the ache… it made his thoughts wander and his breaths pick up.

Grillby came to mind. Of course he would, Sans internally grimaced, although it wasn’t with venom. It wasn’t as though Grillby could get into the shower with him, but he recalled the way the fire monster had acted when water was left behind on him. He had wanted to evaporate it entirely and Sans couldn’t help but grin contentedly with the funny thought that Grillby disliked water that much.

He reached for the hot water tap and tugged it up a little more, wanting to see how hot it would go. Sans figured pretty hot, but he had to hiss and clamp down on his tongue in order to silence a startled yelp with the sudden change in temperature. He’d never get used to the sensation, but he found it pleasant after awhile.

Funny thought, when he had literally housed fire in his rib cage before.

Sans let it wash over him, nudging the water a little warmer, bit by bit instead of all at once. It made him think if Grillby slowly turned up the heat; the fire monster had such perfect control over his flames… He grinned to himself, allowing the hot water to pummel him and trickle down his frame. He relished the way it flowed around his ribs and down his spine.

He still couldn’t get Grillby out of his thoughts. Sans waited for the feeling to go away, and every time he attempted to diffuse the magic collected in his pelvis, a shot of desire sparked through him instead.

As much as the Undernet had its trolls about sexual deviances, ‘heat’ just wasn’t a thing, no matter the amount of fanfiction Alphys hid from him tried to prove otherwise. He was just reacting to a certain chain of events that were… very pleasant, no matter how different it was to when he was actually with his boyfriend. He thought of Grillby holding him, knowing how to handle his body, showing him how much care and consideration he put into how he felt and how comfortable he was…

Fuck. He was just riling himself up more. He found himself leaning closer to the shower’s stream, achingly hot water falling down on him as his arms hung uselessly at his sides.

What if he just…

Sans couldn’t believe he was even entertaining the thought, but the shameless part of his mind was egging him on, needling and chipping away at his resolve _not_ to cross that line. With the thought of ‘fuck it’ ringing in his skull, Sans snatched a look behind him and out of the foggy glass doors, just to make sure no one was watching.

Why did he have stage fright when he was alone?

He swallowed, allowing his magic to gather, but it was formless. He didn’t look at it, only leaned against the tiled wall as he trailed his fingertips in phantom movements against his pubic symphysis. The touches sent a thrilled spark up his spine, hooking into every crook of magic keeping him together. Sans dithered on the decision one last time, just to make sure that he was a good person, and with that final thought, he allowed fleeting memories to guide him.

He was unsure. Grillby was right when he had inferred that he was inexperienced. That bell was rung loud and clear. He huffed against his forearm, muffling strained whimpers, frustrated and ashamed. He hunched, trying to match the movements he thought about in fleeting moments, flush against Grillby’s body and grinding together with such passion that he was sure the fire monster still had scratches on his arms.

Thinking about Grillby helped. The hot water aided the feeling of staying warm, enveloped in powerful waves. Sans choked back a noise as he turned his hand into the void of his pelvis, gliding fingers down his sacrum, cupping his tailbone, trying to imitate how Grillby’s touch unravelled him in his dream.

This was one of his worst ideas yet. His hand grew bold in its explorations, the bone underneath his fingers left sensitive and warm to the touch. His legs were quivering, but Sans couldn’t push himself past the knot into completion.

Why was he even seeking out relief like this? Because it hadn’t occurred to him to just shower, towel off and go back to sleep? Maybe he just wanted to forget the other half of the dream, the one that turned nightmare-ish, and tire himself out so he could curl up, warm and snug.

He bit down on his carpals to muffle the startled grunt that passed his teeth when he finally found a rhythm that worked out more favourably than before. Sans’ spine arched into it as he grinded against his hand, every spark of pleasure bursting a little prematurely. He wasn’t skilled like Grillby was - he supposed that was why the fire monster had offered to teach him.

He flushed when he thought of that, the comfortable promise that had been uttered even while Grillby was recovering, how it made his soul flutter in excitement. He couldn’t help but envision it: being in Grillby’s warm bed, the two of them grinning at each other like love-struck fools, unable to keep their hands to themselves. Of the fire monster pulling him down with him, kissing him, igniting bursts of pleasure that travelled all around his body, not just in his pelvis.

Sans felt it swell in his soul when he thought of it that way, his magic struggling, chopping like a wave as he was brought close. At the same time, he hesitated, shame biting at him as it denied him relief. The pleasure ebbed into a dull subdued throb, drifting away as his frustrated magic stayed even when he stopped, too bothered to continue and his hand too cramped and tired.

At least the slick that travelled down his spine from his soul had been washed away. Sans slid to the floor, turning the water down much cooler as he sat and waited it out.

He would have liked the dream better if it could provide some relief, but it just ended up making him frustrated instead.

Sans carefully inspected himself once he got the courage to get out of the shower. There were no telltale signs that his magic had riled up, nor was his soul secreting anything slippery. Sans kept an eye on himself as he toweled off, not trusting the mirror for fear something would suddenly laugh at him for his incompetence, or just tease him outright.

Frustrated, he pulled on his shorts and shirt, glad that the evidence was gone, at least. When he stepped out of the washroom, the lights were on and dread crept into his soul.

But it was just Alphys. She was just tired, a long ways off into the kitchenette, grabbing something quick from the fridge to munch on before she went back to bed. Since he had come to her for help, she appeared to be in a better mood, though marginally he could catch glimpses of something dark. She had previously been brooding, vaguing on social media, her posts hinting at negative thoughts. Sans decided to reach out and try to get her to talk.

She gave him a meek smile when he approached, one that shivered unnaturally, distracted and far-off. He gave Alphys a reassuring grin and a shrug; “couldn’t sleep?”

She nodded and leaned against the counter, holding a mug of tea. Sans made to make his own, noting that the time on the microwave indicated his aborted shower mission had lasted nearly an hour.

Distractedly, she handed him a mug with a tea bag already in it when Sans started looking around for a clean cup.

“bad dreams?”

Alphys shook her head. “N-nothing like that…”

“somethin’s gotta be on your mind,” Sans urged gently. Sans noted with an internal grimace that while it was ‘natural’ for her to be down in spirits. He wanted to comfort her. Get her to talk. “why don’t we make a garbage pile?”

She offered him a crooked grin with that, at least.

They worked upstairs in her living quarters while the television blared Mettaton’s show, Alphys working on a chassis while Sans tinkered around with thin wires and quartz so fine it chipped in his hands.

Frustrated grunts escaped Sans after he’d clumsily tried to fit refined obsidian and quartz together to create a base frame to work with. It was more fiddly than simply scorching the metrics of the box into the synth materials, and it was completely constructed backwards to how he was normally used to creating boxes. The fact that Alphys had successfully made a portable prototype had escaped Sans’ memory altogether until she had offered it as an alternative to frying his already highwire reserves.

Exhausted, Sans let himself fall back, not caring anymore if the small fiddly pieces scattered in front of him. His fall was cushioned by the swathes of blankets and pillows from an upturned couch and Alphys looked at him. She had been quiet for the better half of an hour.

“do you think,” Sans muttered, pausing to rub over his face, “d’you think that dreams actually mean something?” It was posed with more clarity than how he normally spoke, and it caught Alphys’ attention.

“How do you mean?”

He gestured around vaguely. “besides… the literal effect, i mean. gettin’ cut to pieces doesn’t mean gettin’ cut to pieces, for instance.”

“No, it, um… it doesn’t.”

“so,” Sans continued, noting the detached tone in the little doctor’s voice, “broken bones… mean what, really. being chased? i dunno. maybe i’m exhausted. maybe i’m scared. are you?” Opening up generally made Alphys do the same in turn. It was their odd little reciprocal pow-wow routine.

Alphys started at that, and when Sans looked over to watch her from the floor, she shot her eyes downcast to the chrome breastplate she was enraptured with. “Sharing feelings?”

The skeleton grimaced awkwardly, looking almost pained. “i’ve been bad at that. and i know you try to help me out, but at the same time… how’ve you been? i haven’t seen anything on your profile lately. nothin’ like the usual stuff, i mean. you doin’ ok?”

She was no longer quite as enamoured with the chassis, but her eyes remained fixed on it. Sans noted how her hands shook a little more and he sat up, listening to the jittering of claws on steel.

“It’s dumb,” Alphys muttered, the statement so practised that it bordered on normalcy.

Sans sat up a little more, a frown creasing his brow. “can’t be that dumb if you’re teeterin’ on the edge of melancholy like this,” he murmured, then sat up fully with a deep sigh. “wanna vent?”

She grimaced, chancing a look to his direction before her eyes flicked down to the shiny metal under her still-shaking hands.

“I, I don’t even know,” she said softly. Her voice bit at desperation, but Sans let her speak. She sounded so close to choking; why hadn’t he noticed that she was so pent up and miserable sooner? “I don’t know why, I… I should just stop, right? M.. make everyone’s lives so much happier. I.. I couldn’t do anything then, I-”

Sans shuffled closer, reaching over to settle a hand on her trembling shoulder. Pieces of quartz had been sacrificed and broken in the name of friendship.

“I,” she started, her eyes watering and already red from holding back her emotions, “I got a call.”

_Oh._

Oh no. Sans knew exactly what that meant. Occasionally it would happen; the King would take a moment or two out of his busy schedule to call Alphys and check on her progress. Her progress had admittedly stagnated decades ago, but when the pressure was on him to provide answers to the waiting families in Snowdin, Alphys would crumble under the weight and get reclusive.

Such as she was doing now. Of course. Sans pulled her close and gave her a hug, firm and tight, but not too much. He always gave bony hugs, but she didn’t push him away. Instead, she hunched into his arms, claws catching into his shirt desperately.

Time after time, all he could do was console her that it wasn’t her fault. What obviously had worked for him was not a constant as to what would help others. Even with her muffled sobs and wails against his shoulder, Sans’ voice was held tight. She teetered between helplessly sobbing “what do I do??” and demanding that he promise not to tell a soul, even when she knew he wouldn’t breathe a word.

There wasn’t anything Sans could say or do to ease her down from her panic apart from what he’d already told her. So he continued to just cement the belief that she had tried her best because she believed she was doing the right thing at the time.

He supposed it was his turn to play Papyrus. Sans didn’t know how his brother could do it even half the time.

Calls from Asgore always sent her into a spiral of self-doubt and loathing, despite the King only checking in on her well-being. Sans had heard the messages often enough to know what the tone was; a gentle and concerned rumble that also hid how weary he was over holding the mountain on his shoulders.

Soon they were laying down on the pile of blankets and pillows, staring up to the ceiling on their backs. Sans was idly counting the fans clicking above as Alphys eventually calmed down, still wiping over her face with her glasses in one hand.

“Sometimes I think about, um… parallel universes,” she mumbled after a long bout of silence. Sans craned his neck to look at her inquisitively. She had replaced her glasses and was now wringing her claws together nervously. “I-in my dreams, I mean. Some.. sometimes, I probably dream about… I don’t know, um. Probably, just… going to another world. Where this didn’t happen? Where.. Where there isn’t a scoff after someone said my name in passing.”

Sans continued to watch the way she moved, and reached out, giving the spines on her head a reassuring pat.

“O-of course they’re…. all just dreams, I mean. Fantastical, w-with magic instead of being explained by neutrinos and quark relays… It’s neat to think about… s-simplistically!!”

Sans exhaled slowly. He knew what her troubles were but digging into that wound would only make her even more reclusive. “i think it means you’re antsy about that last human.”

“Er…”

Sans shrugged. “i’ve been thinkin’ `bout it too. what would happen if one last human made it down here. came outta the ruins and scare the hell outta us. what if one more’s all it took to get free?” He let the silence stretch on for awhile, listening to the gentle clicking from the ceiling fans to fill the gaps between. “kinda neat to think of it that way.”

Alphys just laughed, the sound a little lighter than before. “Y-yeah…”

More silence. They both knew in their hearts that it would probably be awhile before the last needed human would fall and Asgore would make good on his promise to monsterkind. Whether or not that occured during their lifespans was a whole different story - one they each decided not to dwell on.

It was neat to speculate on what would happen, but why be morose about it if it was out of their control?

“Hey,” she said, her tone still exhausted, “you said, um… broken bones.”

“i did.”

“I… I’ve found a book at the dump before,” she admitted covertly, “s-several books, I mean… Some are pretty weird but humans sure do have interesting ideas behind dream theory…”

Sans chuckled goodnaturedly. “your exposition is top-notch as usual, alph.”

Alphys waved in a way that Sans didn’t quite see, but she seemed to relax a little more. “Maybe… humans and skeletons are related.”

“bite your tongue,” Sans mock-chastised with a laugh.

“What, um, I mean is that… their dreams talk of bones?”

“skeletons aren’t the only ones with bones, alph.”

Alphys flushed in embarrassment, “I mean… I know that! But hear me out!” There was a small awkward pause and she suddenly giggled. “A-actually, no, tell me your dreams.”

“aw. i didn’t know you were usin’ your friendfics as reference material now,” Sans crooned with a teasing wink and he didn’t bother dodging the pillow that was half-heartedly flung over her shoulder. It landed him square in the face.

So he told her, conveniently leaving out a few moments that he recalled, glad that they were staring at the ceiling instead of facing each other. Otherwise, Sans had the feeling that she’d be giving him the smarmiest knowing look and he’d be blushing like the awkward pile of calcium that he was lately.

She whistled lowly once he ended it with; “and then my leg just kinda… crumbled in my hands.”

She hummed in consideration and moved to pull one of the blankets up and over her shoulders. “Broken leg,” she started so matter-of-factly that Sans turned his skull again to eye her. “Hmm.”

“it’s bad, right?” he murmured, plucking at his shirt with the memory of the dream. “kinda figured, since most of my dreams are pretty screwed up.”

“W-well! No! Actually, I was, um… thinking how it wasn’t actually a break. Sure, you say it cracked, but it’s just gone! That… has to account for something, right? I mean… a loss of a leg is not about the body part itself so much as it represents you not really… having control in your life. Or, you’re putting your feelings aside for something, o-or! You’re not standing up for yourself!!”

“kinda hard to stand up for myself when i’m peg-legged in dreamland,” Sans groused and gave a frown. He knew what she meant, but he wasn’t about to tell Alphys her readings made sense when she could barely apply logic to her own problems.

Best to let her focus on this than other ideas.

“what about…” Sans mumbled, idly scratching at the phantom prickle across his chest. He belaboured the thought, exhaling long and deeply as though resigning himself to more questions. “what about ribs?”

Alphys craned her head to regard him, but he didn’t meet her inquiring stare.

“W-wow, you’re just… just opening up, lately…”

Sans grimaced. “alph…” Admittedly, he wasn’t used to laying his cards out like this. He didn’t like being vulnerable, so he often pretended he didn’t bring his deck or plain refused to play the game. “ok, psycho-analyse me.”

“Well,” she began, adjusting herself so she wasn’t looking at him at an awkward angle. “Ribs breaking, or just ribs? B-because if it’s just the idea of them, then it’s like… keeping secrets. Or acting on your own, um… your own terms.”

“man, it’s a good thing the royal guard is so puffed up that it doesn’t have the time to look into people’s net history, huh?” Sans chuckled mildly, his grin a little crooked with the tease. Alphys made an indignant noise at his jab at her crush’s occupation and the skeleton sighed. “a knife.”

Alphys snorted loudly. “Th-that one is so obvious.”

“ok. work with me, ace detective.”

She sighed, rubbing over her face. The caffeine was wearing off. “You either should, um… cut out a bad habit, or a bad influence from your life.”

Sans thought on that for a few moments, then laughed quietly to cover up how he really felt. “man, i guess that means no more anime.”

Alphys laughed, surprised. “M-m-m-me!?”

Sans grinned with a wink. “the worst influence.” Her giggles continued, hesitant. “nah, i kid. you’re one of the best.”

The little doctor leaned over and grabbed her phone, taking the time for it to fill the space around them with bright white light as she loaded up one of the apps on her phone. Her claws jittered on the screen and Sans yawned, his jaw clicking while he also grabbed the pillow next to his head and forced it under his skull.

“M-March twelfth, two-thousand-and-” Alphys began, her speech interrupted by errant giggles. “Tagged, at fun2bboned, genuine compliment from Captain Shy And Embarrassed About His Feelings, Mister Skeleton. RIP.”

Sans snorted and made a lunge for her phone. “don’t put that.”

“H-he tried to stop me!” she guffawed at no one in particular, rolling away from him with little success. “Help!”

Sans huffed, rubbing at one socket, a wry grin on his face as he pulled a blanket over his head. “i can’t believe you’re outin’ me like this.”

“Y-you’re the one who’s interrupting my sleep like th-this,” she snorted again.

Sans let her have that one. He sighed and closed his eye sockets, finally eased enough to try sleeping again.

“hey, alph?”

“Um, yeah..?”

“in the mornin’,” he started after a pause, taking a moment to yawn again, “y’gotta help me think of somethin’ to do for, uh…”

“Uhh????” Alphys continued, jostling him a little as she arranged the pillows and cushions around to make a sort of nest to hunker down in.

“kinda asked the boy out without havin’ anything in mind,” Sans admitted a little bashfully. “he’s… kinda the mushy sort. but then he seemed to like my idea last time?” He paused. “wonder if that even counts? he counted it as a date, anyway. the sparring, i mean.”

He wasn’t prepared for the stark silence that followed until he opened an eye socket and looked at Alphys, who had her chin resting in her hands and her eyes were bright and dancing in excitement.

“T-t-t-t-tell me!! I, I want to hear _everything!!_ Oh my god!”

Sans realised what that entailed and tried very hard not to react, despite the flush that touched his face betraying him liberally. He mumbled to himself, “c’mon, alph. it’s embarrassin’. you’re like my really weird sister, or somethin’.”

Another pause. Then is crashed all around him.

“Embarrassed? Oh… oh my god???” Her gasp was overtheatric and Sans grimaced inwardly. “Oh my god, if… if you can’t tell me, your BFF, and it’s probably maybe something that… you can tell your _brother_ about either, oh my g-god. Oh _wow!!_ You t-two, you fucked!?”

Sans instantly felt mortified and retorted faster than he should have; “what? no!”

Alphys continued on, her grin reaching diabolical measures to extract all the juicy details from him. He still grimaced, now his face feeling hot from embarrassment.

“i’m not tellin’ you a goddamn thing,” he muttered very matter-of-factly, craning his attention back to counting ceiling tiles far ahead. “nothin’ about any hypothetical funny business. trust me.”

Her giggles won out in the end and Sans ended up hiding his face with another pillow while she drilled questions as though she had a checklist ready.

He didn’t get much further than, “i kinda… _really_ like him” before Alphys collapsed beside him, every other word out of her mouth some variation of congratulations and pleading for the ‘scoop’. Sans decided to ignore her until morning the best way he knew how, and he turned and fell asleep, memories of Grillby on his mind.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good things come in 3.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **content warning(s):** explicit sexual content

This was starting to get a little ridiculous. He would’ve been fine with just the one time, but Sans let the cold water pummel over him to extinguish the warmth seeping from his soul. He had dreamt of Grillby again - another dream that was pleasant and not at the same time. While he didn’t remember specific details, Sans still recalled the phantom sensation of the fire monster’s hands on him, in him, claiming him-

Sans squeezed his eye sockets closed and ducked his head into the chilly water. Warm hands came to mind, searching, pushing up and under his ribs…

Don’t think about it. And definitely don’t _do_ anything about it.

He tried to think about talking to Grillby instead, how it made him feel, how Sans’ soul gave a thundering jolt and flutter every time he saw Grillby. Lovestruck wasn’t even the term. He was downright in love.

Sans decided the shower had gone on long enough and turned off the tap, just praying that he wasn’t behaving peculiarly. If Alphys had caught wind of anything the last time, she pretended nothing was up. Or perhaps she was just caught up in their work. He honestly hoped it was the former.

As Sans got dressed for the day, he thought about what Alphys had said about the meaning behind his dreams. Of how he needed to stand up for himself, or at least what his subconsciousness was telling him. The thoughts connected as he dwelt on the dreams.

Afraid of opening up was a given; there was no need to dissect it. Standing up for himself, however? He could guess as to what that meant. Especially if it was on ‘his terms’.

Why was everything taunting him lately? How the hell could he bring that up in casual conversation? Reporting it would just take a lot of paperwork and make it entirely too serious. But that was it, wasn’t it? Grillby and Alphys and especially his brother knew it was serious. Sans did too.

He’d put it off, but nothing could shove him into the next stage of actually confronting Undyne to report the attack.

He made his way out of the washroom after toweling off and getting dressed again. Perhaps today would be the day that he got his issues figured out. Alphys would help him like she always did.

Unfortunately it took a great deal longer than that to figure out what to do with the project. His impatience lately was causing problems and Sans was growing frustrated with the dreams plaguing him on a nearly-nightly basis. During the whole week, there had been only a couple of days where he didn’t wake up, magic hot and on the verge of coalescing because his stupid head was lingering on his boyfriend too much.

Perhaps it was mainly because he hadn’t seen Grillby in close to a week, bouncing between work in Hotland and his project. Perhaps it was due to the fact that Sans honestly wanted to do good by him. Sans faltered when his thoughts came to a screeching halt, eyeing his project critically. He hoped that it would be good enough.

Despite the serious advancements in technology in the Underground, quality paints were either too expensive to get on a whim or were plain difficult to come by. Papyrus was always resourceful, but Sans opted for stains, which he ventured into the Hotland markets to obtain. They didn’t have much in the way of blues, but Sans found a variety of pigments that could be easily applied to the materials he was using. When innocently enquired on the subject, the skeleton shrugged and merely replied, “new hobby.” 

And it was, in a sense. Sans had let the obsession over creating a box that would be worthy of Grillby consume him. Sure, the skeleton had always been utilitarian in his works before, bordering on downright ugly, but something about the bartender just made him feel like he had to _try._ Which was why when he got back to the lab with his purchases, he set about his project again, from noon until whenever he passed out.

Hyperfocus was not usually his game. Usually Sans would be able to detach himself whenever he felt hungry or tired, but not this time. While he didn’t feel pressured, he felt excited, wanting to see the fire monster’s reaction.

Sans hoped that he loved it.

He really hoped.

He focused on his work. Alphys was a background noise after awhile. Occasionally food would appear next to him when his focus broke and he would eat. Sans meticulously scored inside the panels into stylised ripples, slowly honing down the hard wood into softer shapes that mimicked that which was forever emblazoned in his memory. He smiled fondly to himself as he did so, pouring his affection into each stroke, every rounded curve. The stains were later painstakingly applied, in layers, drying between each set. Naps were caught in between coats and Sans later woke up in the middle of the night, once more afflicted with his little ‘problem’.

The thing was that he was anxious to see Grillby again, but it wasn’t as though he was giving the bartender the cold shoulder. Sans would routinely pester his boyfriend over the course of the week with silly little enquiries - for no reason in particular - to make the box as great as how he had envisioned it. Grillby remained wary, or perhaps Sans was reading between the lines a little too deeply. Sans didn’t think much on it, having tunnel-vision for his project and not what his extended absence might mean to Grillby.

It was a couple of days later when Sans finally made the trip from the Hotland Labs back home to Snowdin. Admittedly, the distance between coupled with the interrupted sleep lately had made him mentally weary at the prospect of dragging the box back. His soul pattered and thumped excitedly when he imagined how Grillby would react when he received the gift and proposition.

Sans dragged the sled he was using to carry the gift into the entrance to the tunnel, crisp snow scuffing the wood and making it sound louder than it actually was. He peered around at the empty expanse, taking in the surroundings. The boughs above were kept trimmed high to prevent snow from falling between the trees and there were grooves in the ice below his feet that were formed so people wouldn’t slip and fall.

If he remembered correctly, Grillby generally avoided the place. It wasn’t primarily his concern to go gallivanting around Snowdin Forest, apart from the first time the fire monster had come to confront Sans about staying away. It really seemed so long ago when Grillby had sent a pulse of warmth through his body, and the skeleton had to grin bashfully at his own memory.

The further one travelled inward, the more it appeared to be a strip mall packed into a ruin, glittering snow shining between the stalls like frozen spiderwebs. It was a sight that was pretty, but it paled in comparison to what Grillby’s hidden spot looked like. That, and almost everyone that could walk could pass by.

It was technically the laziest thing he’d ever done. He set the gift down on the ground, shoveling snow around it with his shoe to make it appear that the box had been there the entire time. He tested the lid a few more times, satisfied with the silent hinges and the flash of colour inside. He still found the interior so strange, being used to the telltale glow of the CORE lighting box interiors. He’d have to learn to get used to it for this one, at least.

Sans checked his phone again. 10:34pm. Was it too late in the night to go to Grillby’s? There was no doubt that the fire monster would welcome him, and Sans didn’t want to just text the invitation to meet up in the morning. It was strange to spend so long on one thing and then to leave the box alone to be interacted with the locals. It would be fine.

The amount of pride he felt at creating such a thing was immensely confusing. He didn’t feel that way when he’d created the other item boxes - why was this one so different? Perhaps it was the fact that Sans had been so mentally and physically exhausted that he was unable to take pride in his work before. Or perhaps it was the fact that it was the same amount of pride someone would have over lighting a match and watching it fall into a tar pit. Bright and amazing one moment, until the consequences sunk in and regret reared its ugly head.

But this time, it was different. Sans was ok. And it was _weird._

Another weird point being that the flower or whatever malintended being that was dogging him at the CORE and in Waterfall almost completely faded from his mind. They didn’t pop out of nowhere, and Sans didn’t feel apprehensive about travelling. Again - another odd peculiarity, but it hadn’t been sudden. It faded over time, melding into the background as though it hadn’t happened at all. Sans had pushed it until it fit neatly into a dark pocket of his mind where the worry wouldn’t bother him.

Right now, all Sans had were thoughts of Grillby as he walked back to town, darkness settling around him like a security blanket. He looked down to his phone and the last message sent from Grillby. _‘Miss you.’_ He grinned absently to himself and noted the current time; just after 11:00pm, right when Grillby would be locking up for the night and likely be either cleaning up or going to bed.

His grin tugging a little mischievously, the skeleton rounded the restaurant and hid the sled away from view. He entered via the fire exit, residual heat in his phalanges making the door’s lock unlatch with a subtle, satisfying _click._ Surprising the fire monster was always satisfying on a molecular level, but it made his soul jump with every careful step he took towards the bartender’s glow, hidden away in the back.

Sans leaned against the door frame for a moment, watching the bartender move about the kitchen. Grillby didn’t appear to notice him, incinerating the food left behind on plates and rubbing away the ashes with a dry towel to clean them. The clinks of the plates and the jostle of cutlery that glowed with his heat were pleasant and comforting sounds, ones Sans found he missed during his absence.

He knew it would’ve been sooner or later, but it didn’t stop Sans from shooting him a wink when the other’s mouth quirked in amusement after being caught.

 _“There you are…”_ Grillby didn’t stop his chores, but he slowed down enough when he moved near.

“missed me, huh?” Sans idly scuffed a shoe before pushing himself away from the doorway, taking his time in approaching. “could say the same.”

Grillby grimaced but it wasn’t in rebuke. _“Really…”_ he murmured as he pushed a pile of gleaming plates closer towards the wall. He took a glance over his shoulder as he worked, noting how relaxed Sans looked, how one side of his hoodie slumped carelessly down his shoulder and how his hands were gloved and fingering his sleeves. _“And… what have you been up to, then? Have any more grand schemes planned for me?”_

Sans shrugged a shoulder. The dreams were a surprise, but Sans _definitely_ knew that wasn’t pertinent information that Grillby should know. He couldn’t help the subtle flush that rose high on his cheekbones at the memory and carefully rubbed at his sternum.

Instead, Sans approached, his arms pushing past each of Grillby's sides, cradling the crook of the other's neck with his jaw enough to startle a few errant flames. He snorted in amusement, giving the exposed spot on the fire monster’s neck a soft blow. It made a subtle shiver travel up Grillby’s back that Sans swore he felt reverberate in his sternum.

“hey,” he muttered quietly, “just the one.”

 _“This is certainly a surprise,”_ Grillby chuckled to himself. He craned his head to view the other’s face, his eyes dancing with silent interest. _“What’s gotten into you..?”_

“nothin’,” _yet,_ Sans barely managed not to say. He felt the subtle way Grillby’s stomach tensed under his hands with his laughter, though it was inaudible. Sans smoothed his fingers down, tracing a button on Grillby’s vest before sinking against the fire monster’s warm back. God, he had missed that.

The other’s hands rose to clasp over his, warmth cocooning his gloved hands and travelling in an aching arc up his wrists. It plumed down his ulnae so tender and sweet that Sans felt as though he was going to melt. Instead, he brought Grillby closer, barely allowing the bartender enough room to turn in place.

_“Were you just burning for me this entire time that you’ve come to accost me in my own home?”_

“kitchen. and naw.” Sans’ grin tugged a little more and he glanced away almost sheepishly. “pretty sure that’d merit more than a wipedown.”

Grillby’s fire burned a little hotter at that, clearly caught off guard. He settled for draping his arms around Sans’ shoulders, since the skeleton’s arms were around his waist.

“you get your delivery yet?” Sans asked, his voice soft as his eye lights settled back on the other’s chest.

 _“No,”_ Grillby answered, a little perplexed by the question. He also attempted to look down to the other’s hands, the gloves a little peculiarity that drew his attention just enough to be distracting. _“My… own fault for ordering so late.”_

“my surprise’ll come in handy, then.” Sans looked up, shooting Grillby another wink. “c’mon. time for a walk.”

The fires around him seemed to yawn in protest but Grillby didn’t make a sound when Sans pulled away, though his arms lingered on Sans’ shoulders.

_“Now?”_

“heh. no time like the `present`,” the skeleton snickered. “wouldja rather i carry you?”

Grillby brought a hand up to his chest in mock surprise. _“And… sully my good reputation?”_ he teased incredulously. After a moment, he relaxed and tugged at one side of his bow tie, unravelling the small cloth. _“Why, it’s so late..!”_

Sans watched as the tie slid from around Grillby’s neck, the movement calling upon more intrusive thoughts that shot straight to the base of his spine. He swallowed, his grin almost rueful.

“right.”

Grillby couldn’t help the teasing smile as he looped the small length of cloth behind Sans’ skull, pulling him closer with another chuckle. _“Is… it alright to save until morning?”_

Sans’ soul skipped a beat at the lingering proximity, each of his hands finding the counter’s ledge behind Grillby, firmly pressed against him and now staring up at the fire monster’s face. He had felt confident before, but as with the change of the tide, it ebbed away when he remembered all the subtle teases, bold and chaste, that the other monster had subjected him to in the past.

“is what,” he mumbled quietly, holding fast to the counter’s ledge. He stared at the other’s mouth, how it quirked a little, amused. He saw the glow inside, how it made him feel and how Sans just wanted to lean forward and steal a taste.

 _“…Your surprise?”_ Grillby enquired thoughtfully. _“Or… is this what you’ve been planning?”_

“god, if i could plan this well, i wouldn’t be makin’ a damn fool of myself half the time.”

Grillby watched him carefully, noting the tremor in Sans’ voice. It wasn’t as though he was afraid, but it just sung of nervousness and want. Then again, it could be his imagination. Yet the fun part about being in a relationship with an emotionally inexperienced skeleton was that Grillby was very much in tune with how Sans responded to things.

And, _god,_ he wanted Sans to respond to more.

 _“Perhaps,”_ Grillby breathed as he leaned in closer, every following word whispered and sultry, _“you’ve kept yourself scarce… to make me long for you all the more.”_

Sans was sure that his face was burning but he couldn’t help but laugh awkwardly at the admission. _If the guy only knew,_ Sans thought, a subtle shudder passing through his frame as Grillby’s fingertips idly traced against the back of his neck. He thought he saw something in the fire monster’s expression, a twinge that hurt although Sans didn’t know why. He decided to ignore it, returning idle touches to match Grillby’s caressing.

_“Nothing to say..?”_

Sans’ face flushed as he turned away from Grillby, more delightful sensations travelling up and down his spine. He knew the longer he hesitated, the more incriminating it was, yet he couldn’t _help_ himself. He pushed up to his toes, a rush of want spiking when all he wanted to do was kiss Grillby breathless.

The bartender allowed him to advance and set their pace, an amused quirk to the corner of his mouth every time they parted. Sans, however clumsy that he was, felt oddly out of practise. Every time their mouths connected, there was a subtle burst of energy, barely restrained and shared at the same time. His hands lingered at Grillby’s sides, hesitant but yearning to untie the apron strings.

It would convey the feelings he was currently swimming in, his mind a hazy mess as he panted from his efforts. Sans gave the side of the fabric a brief tug as Grillby leaned down to kiss him again, the sensation filling him with the thoughts that the fire monster had sent through the phone.

_Miss you. Want you. Kiss you all over. Make me feel lucky._

_Love you._

His breath caught when he remembered the admission. It was a direct kick-start to his soul, fuelling every flustered thought whenever Sans recalled it. He parted his teeth to let Grillby in, allowing himself to be manoeuvred back so his spine was pushed firmly against the counter’s ledge. Another shudder fluttered down his back as Grillby pressed himself further, his hands roaming down to Sans’ sides to inch past his clothes.

Sans’ next intake was startled, drawing in Grillby’s flames, with the gentle heat that threatened to lick up against his spinal column. His hands found the other’s forearm, fingers digging in with a warning hum when the touches started to move up. Grillby seemed to understand, the brief touch to his spinal column as though in reassurance. Sans, however, melted against him, pulling the fire monster against his body with renewed fervor.

He missed kissing. He missed the way Grillby’s touch literally lit a fire inside of him. Sans would never forgive himself for depriving them both of stolen moments, breathless kisses and soft words of encouragement. It was a good thing Grillby seemed to have it in his head to make up for lost time.

With another hitched gasp, Sans was bodily lifted from his feet and onto the counter. He had to laugh, the tightness in his soul lifting for a moment when Grillby moved to close the distance between them.

“really? that much?” Sans’ pants were turning hot and ragged. His hands found the bartender’s shoulders, one hand sliding down to his bicep and grabbing onto the garter to keep himself tethered.

 _“Much more,”_ the fire monster purred against the bones of his neck, sending another thrill through Sans.

“wow,” Sans whispered, a rush of heat flooding his face when he felt the other’s hips occupy the space between his legs. He swallowed with difficulty, more intrusive thoughts drawing parallels between his racy dreams and the present.

He shifted on his tailbone, one leg hiking up to pull Grillby against him, like he could never be close enough. Meanwhile the bartender held him up, suspended between the counter top and his own body. Sans curved his back to move forward and capture another kiss, a muffled groan coaxed from him as Grillby’s other hand travelled down his back, supporting him just under his hips.

“keep-” The skeleton’s next sentence was swallowed up, consent devoured all too eagerly as Grillby’s mouth claimed him. He tugged at the sleeve garter, another shameful noise escaping him as Grillby’s hand ventured lower, tracing down Sans’ spine in slow circles that made the skeleton ache. “fuck.”

The statement was watery and thick, only encouraging his partner to continue his explorations. The glove sent a thrill of delicious friction against every bone’s surface, tracing each edge and curve with such adoring affection that Sans’ legs were starting to tremble.

_“Like that?”_

Sans restrained another moan into the cuff of Grillby’s collar, nodding all the while. His fingers flexed and tugged at the other’s shirt, hot breaths ghosting against Grillby’s neck in his eagerness for more.

His magic was gathering helplessly, rocking in the void of his pelvis. Sans huffed again, attempting to quell the urge to just let it surround Grillby’s hand as his touch delved further down the base of his spine. It was as though Grillby’s movements were pulling the sounds out of him, soft, increasing moans catching the further south he ventured.

Sans bucked in desperation, his rib cage heaving as he felt the tug of his pants slip down, just a fraction of an inch. It wasn’t enough. Any more and he felt as though he was going to start demanding Grillby to continue.

 _God damn it,_ his mind blearily went over the thought, focusing on it and touching upon the shift of movement underneath his clothes. Grillby continued to pepper his face with hot kisses that lingered, travelling down to his jaw and neck. Eagerly, Sans lifted his other leg to hook around Grillby’s waist, trapping him in place with a breathless laugh.

Grillby grinned down at him, his form a little loose and hazy, but it was quite obvious that he was enjoying himself by making Sans feel good. He cradled the back of Sans’ skull, laying him flat against the counter as his other hand continued.

_“And this..?”_

Sans stiffened with the firm pass over his sacral plain, huffing out a breath that startled the fire monster more than he thought it would. Sans gave in to an awkward laugh, his hands starting to tremble as he eased his body to relax.

“you serious?”

Grillby nipped playfully at his jawline. _“Very much so. I intend to become so intimately familiar with you.”_

Sans’ soul jumped, warmth flooding his face. He couldn’t help but laugh again, just trying not to squirm. “that’s my naughty spot,” he snickered, unable to help himself.

 _“Mature,”_ Grillby observed dryly, his smirk betraying his tone. He thumbed his way down, brushing against the uniform spaces that pulled such delightful noises from his lover.

“it is, yeah,” Sans exhaled deeply between strokes, betraying his excitement. “wasn’t, uh… expectin’ such an _explicit_ welcome.” That certainly didn’t mean he hadn’t hoped for one, though.

 _“It’s almost as though you don’t believe me,”_ the bartender pressed on. Sans bit back a groan of protest, on the edge of whining for more. Grillby could feel the magic around his hand, hot and heavy, bones rattling softly under his body. He adored the way he could elicit such a response. _“Do you want me to stop?”_

Sans arched under him, his fingers plying their hold imploringly, silently begging for more. “ff.. fuck, no, m’not complaining-” he gasped, holding his hips higher the more the stroking continued. His grip tightening with each weighted breath, heightening to a fault, he blurted, “g-grillby, fuck, lay off a sec-!”

Startled, the fire monster removed his hand, watching with bright eyes as Sans’ panting evened out. There had been the distinct crackle of energy, of a subtle shift in the air. The way Sans was searching the middle-distance, something must’ve happened out of his control.

Either that, or Grillby figured that he had…

He burned rather brightly at the thought and settled for affectionately rubbing at Sans’ spine, watching as the flushed skeleton warmed up to his touch once more.

Sans’ eye lights flicked down, to the very distinct and foreign feeling in his pelvis. It was stronger than before, and Grillby was attempting to avoid it now. The skeleton grimaced at the feather-light touches that made him sensitive but he was more focused with the way his boyfriend’s heat permeated his clothing, making the space between his legs sensually warm.

He unhooked his fingers from the garter, propping his elbow beside him as though Sans could judge the angle. His grin was tight as he tried, sight-unseen, to figure out what exactly had happened to what he assumed had been his preferred piece.

It was different, though. A barrier was constructed, put up similar to when the two of them had cuddled while Grillby was ill, and the barrier filled between his hips and ribs. It was lower, teased with the flitting heat emanating from the fire monster’s gloved hand.

He hadn’t meant to do it. It turned out that he could focus easier now that he’d formed magic there before. Sans laughed sharply, giving Grillby another start.

“didn’t mean to do that,” he admitted as he shifted his hips to better accommodate Grillby’s body. The bare shift from his clothes made a sliver of friction and he hummed. Sans’ attention was rapt with the way Grillby’s hand pulled from the space under his ribs, moving to his iliac crest. Sans squirmed as the heat flooded the bone, sinking down to his core. “this ok?”

 _“It is if you want it,”_ Grillby responded, his mouth moving against Sans’ neck. He could feel the vulnerable way Sans shivered and moved to meet with his touch and how the skeleton nodded against him once more. His own soul was thrumming hard with every sound that escaped the body beneath him, fuelling his need to touch and show affection and love.

Sans didn’t know what the deal was with the other extracting permission from him time and time again. Mostly since he thought the whole thing was pretty obvious that he wanted to be touched, right down to his body acting of its own accord. Sans flushed when he realised what that meant and huffed excitedly, his soul thundering quicker as Grillby claimed his mouth in another kiss.

The skeleton moaned softly, fighting his own coordination to pluck at Grillby’s vest. He had a feeling the other’s clothes just weren’t made to be groped at when two buttons popped free and clattered onto the counter and floor. Grillby huffed a breathless sort of laugh that made Sans’ soul flutter with excitement.

 _“Sans,”_ Grillby’s voice spread warmth throughout Sans’ body and the skeleton trembled, pulling the other closer to his body with his legs. _“If I hadn’t known any better… I’d say you were in a hurry.”_

Sans grinned despite himself, hunching his shoulders in a way that made it appear as though he was smaller. “got excited,” he pardoned with a quiet cough, his eye lights averting. “y’made the main event kinda fun last time.”

Grillby watched him, his look tender with all the subtleties of an enthralled fire monster. He pulled his free hand up, bracketing Sans’ head on the counter with a smirk on his own. The hovering would have been smothering, had Sans not wanted him close and closer still.

_“Really..?”_

Sans felt another excited tremor go through him as he traced over the waist of Grillby’s apron, then moved his hands up his sides. He watched as the fires around the other’s face brightened in intensity, tinged gold that blended into white and orange again.

Grinning, Sans nodded in affirmation, moving his hips a little more. It produced a small pop of friction, just tantalising enough for him to tighten his hold on Grillby’s arms.

 _“Only `kind of`, though,”_ Grillby teased good-naturedly, an echo of enrapture in his voice. _“…Admit I’ve never been so inclined to sully my kitchen before.”_

Sans put on his best poker face, only the flood of warmth betraying him with the slight catch to his speech. “you wanna go upstairs?” His voice had only reached that lower register before, feeling both smooth and tight as it left him. He was sure that his soul was jack-hammering behind his ribs.

Grillby seemed to purr, a rolling, deep rumble that echoed fire and a promise for more. More comfortable heat pushed between his femurs, heightening his need.

_“That would require letting you go.”_

Sans couldn’t help the small noise that escaped him as Grillby pinned him further against the counter top, nor the way his soul’s beat fired up anew. He felt the tingle under his ribs as he closed an eye socket, grinning, idly playing with the bartender’s sleeve garters in an attempt to distract him.

“oh, really?” the skeleton dared as he looped his arms around the other’s torso, allowing his legs to hang open instead. Gathering magic in a great burst now that he was used to it, he reversed their positions, pulling them both through a tear in the gridline. With how exhilarated he felt, Sans didn’t even notice that the sharp pang he felt was due to their landing on the bed upstairs, not because his health had ticked down.

It caught Grillby off-guard though, which gained him the upper-hand. Sans straddled his lap from above, looking quite pleased with himself as he bracketed Grillby’s head with his forearms. The fire monster’s aura reddened, his expression quite literally darkening.

 _“Reckless,”_ the fire monster hissed quietly, that pained look returning to his eyes.

Sans hesitated for a moment before he realised what Grillby meant by that, then sat back a little more to give Grillby some space. His breathing was starting to even out, just on the verge of settling down; his magic, however, was not.

“nah,” he breathed, though he drew his hands up away from Grillby’s reach. They settled on his zipper, pulling down, as Sans watched Grillby’s eyes follow with blazing interest. “remember when i said my body was sortin’ things out…?” The fire monster’s eyes flitted up, his glow brightening yet remaining dubious. Sans grinned a little shyly, shifting to unhook the zipper toggle and shrug out of his hoodie. When he didn’t get a response, only warm hands bracing his knees, the skeleton laughed, suddenly unsure. “what, y’don’t believe me…?”

Sans shifted his weight as he twisted to one side to fully remove his hoodie, confident in the fact that Grillby wouldn’t kick him off since the fire monster’s hands found each of his femurs and he was holding fast. Grillby also looked conflicted. Sans frowned slightly, moving down to place both of his hands beside the fire monster’s head.

“ok. how about this, then,” Sans breathed, his nervousness quickly bubbling up inside of him. He leaned down, his back a tantalising curve that had Grillby flexing his fingers slightly, thumbs grazing up to where Sans’ legs met his hips. “we ignore this little bout of magic for now… and pay attention to somethin’ else.”

Grillby knew he shouldn’t have, knew he should have been more outraged that Sans had risked his health yet again for the sake of convenience, but he couldn’t get himself to stay upset for long. Not with the soft, hesitant touches to his abdomen and the firm, needy push of Sans’ tongue against his mouth.

He nodded in silent agreement, pushing his hips up to meet with the skeleton’s while he moved his hands, spreading heat into Sans’ clothes before he pulled them down the lengths of his femurs. Sans trembled above him, a soft noise of appreciation grunted between them when Grillby slid his hands up again.

Bones quivering, Sans couldn’t find thoughts to give words to. He just wanted to undo every button on Grillby’s vest and shirt and cover him with kiss marks. He aimed to do just that, trying not to focus on the way Grillby’s hand paused their explorations to shift in the space between their bodies.

Sans ground down again, the cushion of his pubic arch building up sensitivity due to the friction. He made a mess of Grillby’s collar, restraining himself from just tearing the clothes off from the bartender. His face flooded with the heat of shame, hiding the fact that he would love to see Grillby all rumpled and breathless again. Sans settled for unbuttoning it down the rest of the way, burying his face against the bartender’s neck to draw in the flames and replace it with magic.

Grillby sucked in a sudden breath when he did so, and Sans felt the warmth in his body tingle again. It was a different warmth than what the fire monster provided, one powered by a need for touch and affection. He grinned between soft nips and ran his tongue over a fissure in Grillby’s chest that resembled his own clavicle.

The sound Grillby made was downright _filthy._ It was enough to fuel Sans to do more, urged with the firm squeeze to his femurs. Grillby’s gloves had been rough, but now his hands were smooth, impossibly warm and inching higher, and higher.

It was enough to wrench a startled moan from Sans, his hips jerking back as Grillby’s fiery hands met with the sensitive magic form hidden behind his shorts.

 _“Easy,”_ Grillby hummed, all satisfaction as Sans supported himself with both arms, his expression a mix of veiled surprise and lust.

Sans swallowed thickly, the pleasure tingling as one of Grillby’s thumbs traced up his slit, barely applying pressure at all. He attempted to keep under control, grabbing at the waist of Grillby’s pants as heat surged up between his legs.

“oh…” It was soft and involuntary like a sigh, his body tightening as Grillby’s thumb moved, coaxing Sans to gyrate his hips to accommodate more. “you can’t just… go for gold, y’know,” he muttered thickly, barely resisting to rock with the pleasing tease. “that and, uh… i didn’t mean to do that. you can just… ignore…” He wasn’t sure where he was going with this anymore.

Grillby’s hand wasn’t stopping though; he curled his fingers to catch the wet magic and drag it up and down. Sans’ breaths were starting to waver, his thoughts preventing himself from outright telling Grillby to stop, because ‘wet’ wouldn’t be good for him. But then he recalled the educational experience that it was ‘just magic’…

He whined softly, fingers clutching and grasping at Grillby’s clothes. It wasn’t nearly enough but Sans bit back another impatient moan, his face burning from shame when he glanced down to Grillby’s face.

He was smiling, smug and tender all at once. When their eyes met, Sans sank back, his mouth agape when he felt the lightest pressure glide over his clit. He clung to the feeling, his back curving and tensing at once, until the fire monster moved his hand away the lingering pressure, ending on a bright white-hot tap.

It earned Grillby a started yelp from Sans, barely able to keep himself upright through the sensations. They were entirely too new, too mixed with the pulsing heat that he craved.

 _“Ignore you? No… not while I’m so dearly invested now,”_ the fire monster teased, his bright eyes watching intently at the brilliant cyan-white lightshow flickering wildly from within Sans’ shirt. It was a dark shade of green, but he could read the text ‘good things come in 3’. Grillby made a mental note. At least there was a goal now. He slid his free hand out from Sans’ pant leg to gain better access to his spine, softly caressing in a way that mimicked many lonely nights. _“And this…?”_

Sans’ eye sockets were hooded, his eye lights hazy and full with the flush that spread across his cheekbones. Grillby felt is own body grow warmer as a result, his hand cupping around the curve of Sans’ spinal column, then gently gliding his grip up and down. His thumb braced the fore of the column, every ridge and curve of bone jolting as pleasure rippled through Sans.

“oh…” Sans said again, this time more roughly. He turned his head away from Grillby’s face to hide, leaning down to welcome more. His phalanges gripped at the sheets next to the fire monster’s head, a weak desperation to hold back despite how riled up he’d gotten.

He pushed his hips down again, yearning for more of that sweet, agonising pleasure. His next gasp was breathless and thick as Grillby’s fingers went down again to circle his wet sex, bringing his touch upward again, slickened and easier to move.

There had always been free space within his body, but now with the bartender's explorations, Sans felt the barrier swell to accommodate him. It was so _different,_ yearning to have the spaces filled up, warmed by fire, by Grillby’s touch. Sans muffled himself again, pushing himself further into Grillby’s hold, his hands flexing needily. He ground down once more, his hips seeking out the teasing heat that slickened fingers would never be enough for, friction just barely enough to get him going.

At this rate, it wouldn’t be long before it was over. That was the last thing Sans wanted, not when he craved Grillby’s touch as much as he did. Sans suppressed a surprised “ah!”, moving one hand between them to pull Grillby’s shirt from his waistband with a shaky grip.

He was determined. It was probably the most perverted thing he’d ever been determined for, but Sans was willing to ignore that for the moment. Grillby moved to accommodate him, his warm fingers withdrawing from his spine to settle next to him.

 _“…Seems that you have an idea,”_ the fire monster said with interest. He’d relinquish the reins for now. He allowed himself to sink back on the mattress to rest on his elbows while Sans gave him a heady look.

His stomach jumped a little with the difference in temperature, even through Sans’ gloves. Grillby was still of a mind to ask what the deal was with them, but grew distracted with the way the skeleton’s hands deftly unbuttoned his slacks. Sans was shy yet bold, grinning absently to himself as he moved closer, concealing his hand between their bodies.

 _“Why not remove them,”_ Grillby suggested, his breath catching with anticipation. Sans laughed lowly, sending a thrill throughout Grillby’s flames so suddenly that the added tongue to his chest made him breathless. His temperature was rising, thick flames reaching out to touch Sans no matter how much he wanted to hold back.

“i intend to.” It took all Grillby was not to reverse their positions and push Sans into the mattress at that moment. He was sure Sans was talking about his trousers, which made him feel a little unleashed, excited and nervous.

It wasn’t in his nature. He resisted a groan, if only because Grillby wasn’t used to making noise any louder than the low register he was known for. He noted the way Sans’ soul glowed more steadily, the soft sound of satisfaction that came from Sans’ mouth when his tongue moved against his form. Grillby knew that he was going to sport more than his fair share of kiss marks by the end of the night.

He also knew that Sans could turn things over on him in the blink of an eye. He just needed a little guidance in this instance, which is why Grillby inhaled sharply, hips jutting up to meet with the hand pulling at his waistband. It was enough for Sans to pause, his eye lights bright and steady on him. God, of all the times Grillby wanted to reclaim dominance, Sans had to lower his face down to his chest again.

He had noted the glow before and the sensual way Sans’ tongue felt for a level surface or an edge to trace. Grillby moved his hand up to cup over his mouth, stifling the throaty moan that was coaxed out of him.

“oh, no y’don’t,” the skeleton grinned up at him, the fingers under Grillby’s waistband wriggling slightly, as though testing. The fire monster grabbed at the sheets in order to restrain himself as Sans drew up, hand gliding up his abdomen and his other carefully pulling Grillby’s hand from his face. “i wanna hear.”

He knew that Sans was just testing, but it felt so gratifying to be needed for feedback. Grillby inhaled sharply, moving to lace their fingers together when Sans pushed his hand back down. He hadn’t formed anything, not since Sans had told him that his own formation had been accidental. He found it rather charming in its own way, how the skeleton was holding back, wanting to explore, to extract sounds from him and mark him.

Grillby’s next groan was low, his hips sinking back to allow more space for Sans’ reach. His flames were leading the other’s hand, deteriorating the glove’s integrity out of view. Grillby’s hips thrust up once more with a sharp cry, just on the verge of giving in to his senses.

But Sans was new to all of this. He didn’t know that there had to be a slow build up, so his touches were more agonising and teasing than helpful. Grillby was of a mind to shove him back and take control, but no, he stayed back. He couldn’t overwhelm him.

His fires flickering wildly, he murmured, _“N.. need instruction…?”_

Sans shot him a grin, nerves and a silent question burning between them. Yet he didn’t say a word. Instead, he wriggled his phalanges between Grillby’s clothes and his body, then Sans laughed quietly, as though suddenly bashful.

 _“mmh._ i can probably _finger_ it out.”

Grillby’s mouth quirked in a grin of his own, paler flames dancing around his visage and flooding down his shoulders. Well, he supposed he could accommodate that line of thinking, even though it wasn’t his usual preference. Still, he was nothing if not adaptable when it came to the one he loved.

Grillby sunk back further into the bedding, one hand slipping down to push at his waistband. Sans got the hint, eyeing the space between them, the glow under his shirt looking much like flashing disco lights in his excitement. The fire monster grinned at that, sliding up to help with the removal of his trousers. He grabbed a fistful of Sans’ shirt and pulled him up to claim his mouth, the sound of the clothing shifting off the bed a signal to continue.

Sans’ hands remained idle at his hips, shocked shy. Grillby decided to take action and bend his knee, drawing up his leg between Sans’ femurs so he could rock against it.

 _“Do you… prefer direct instruction? Or… to feel things out,”_ Grillby asked breathlessly, his soul beating in tune with Sans’.

The skeleton’s breaths were shaky with his nervousness, coupled with the light pressure of Grillby’s knee through his shorts. Every bit of friction to his clit was a tease, and he didn’t mean to roll his hips forward to catch more. He hummed quietly, his soul feeling near to bursting behind Grillby’s grasp of his shirt.

“dunno,” he replied shakily. He settled for another kiss, melting in the moment when Grillby’s leg rocked against him again. He just barely held back, but realised that would likely make him a hypocrite as well. He whispered a little hastily, “kinda learn by demonstration… if that’s ok.”

Grillby made a noise low in his throat, pleased. Sans felt the sound travel down his spine and nestle between his legs, hot and ready.

_“That’s entirely fine by me.”_

Sans allowed the admission to fuel him and he pushed himself against Grillby’s knee again, his hand delving lower, mapping out the hidden form beneath his boyfriend’s fires. He was caught on a chuckle, too bashful to meet Grillby’s eyes, and entirely too nervous to watch where he was groping.

He felt Grillby’s body subtly change. There was no crackle or snap of energy, just a roll of flames that moved a bare fraction of an inch from where his hand’s path lay. It had caught him a little off guard that Grillby would opt for a receptive role. Sans was pretty sure this wasn’t how puzzle-working went.

He deadpanned at that; he should not be thinking of Papyrus’ advice just then.

They could do whatever they wanted. It didn’t matter, as long as they were together.

Soul feeling tight and heavy yet impossibly light, Sans’ hand made a hasty retreat. He caught the glint in Grillby’s eye, one of veiled disappointment, though it vanished in an instant. Sans grinned uneasily, bringing his hand to his teeth to pull off the glove.

Well, he had tried to hide it. It turned out that bones were porous, less than wood, but enough to leave traces when he had used the stains on his project. Grillby’s mouth quirked down in a confused and enquiring way, reaching to grab Sans’ hands to inspect his phalanges.

_“What… happened to your poor hands?”_

Sans grimaced, giving in to a half-chuckle. “s’just wood stain.”

The fire monster’s hand was warm on his, soothing out the chill and deteriorating the pigments left in his pores. The mixed hues of green, gold, violet and red darkened with the presence of heat, and Sans sighed reluctantly.

“honest, m’ok. see? you’re burnin’ off the colour. it’s all good.” Even though Grillby still appeared worried, Sans gave him a wink. “that’s still a surprise.”

 _“Staining…?”_ Grillby murmured quizzically. He flushed a little when Sans wriggled his fingers at him. Then Grillby rose a figurative brow incredulously; _“Wood?”_

“no guessin’,” the smaller monster chastised, drawing back a little more. Grillby moved his leg down to accommodate Sans’ height and a delighted shiver went down his spine. “that’d be… _mmh,_ cheatin’…”

Sans slid his hand down Grillby’s abdomen once more, averting his eyes at least, to his intended path. He saw the way the flames skittered away from his hands and the jolting way the fire monster’s form moved as though startled. He followed the curve down, past the jut of Grillby’s hip, following the natural line as he dipped his head down again. Sans pushed a kiss against the fire monster’s stomach, relishing the heat.

_“Does it count as cheating if I’m already w-”_

Grillby made an involuntary little noise when Sans pushed his tongue out to give an experimental lick. It felt as though the fire monster was going to lift himself up, but Sans kept a steady hold on him. The heat of Grillby’s body flowed into his mouth and the skeleton couldn’t help the desperate little tremor that shot through him.

“sorry,” he murmured, shooting an impish glance to Grillby’s face. He looked just _ravished,_ and Sans wanted to hear more of those little restrained noises. “didn’t catch that.”

 _“You scoundrel,”_ the fire monster chuckled, his flames whipping about excitedly. Sans moved in a way to unhook Grillby’s leg from in between his own; it was proving to be a little more than distracting. He wanted to gain the upper hand. He wanted to pull more throaty, pleading noises from Grillby.

Not only that, but he yearned to show he could be on level playing field as the fire monster, and that Sans could prove what he felt he couldn’t say out loud.

Another stuttered breath from Grillby when he kissed lower and Sans relished in the reactions, the small little jumps under his fingers and teeth. They fuelled him as he kissed lower and lower, marking what was his; after all, if Grillby claimed him, why couldn’t Sans do the same?

Sans hesitated as his hand slipped between the other’s thighs, shame burning, yet Grillby didn’t speak out against it. All the skeleton could hear was his excited breathing as he kissed lower, bringing his hand low to skim the slit of Grillby’s chosen sex. He echoed the same touches that the fire monster had administered to him, listening intently to his lover as a hot huff sounded.

Having rocked against Grillby’s knee gave Sans some insight as to how this part worked. Although he was extremely unused to being so intimate, he stopped shy of dipping in with his fingers, the fire monster’s voice on the edge of a plea. Sans’ soul hammered hard at what that meant and angled his thumb, sliding up the lips with a heat so impossibly inviting clinging to his fingers.

Sans cradled the bundle of magic at the top, his face flushed when he heard a muted protest tumble out of Grillby’s mouth. He pushed himself up, applying barely any pressure there as he sheepishly made eye contact. Grillby had propped himself up on his elbows, his shirt splayed open to reveal his chest, covered in small little red marks from Sans’ kissing. His breaths were so hot that the air shimmered between them and his flames were erratic and pale.

Sans shifted so that he was straddling one of Grillby’s legs, holding his thigh firmly with a questioning glance. Grillby nodded slightly, fires spreading out low and hot, simmering just under control.

 _“…Doing well,”_ Grillby murmured, an unsteady thickness to his voice. Sans took the encouragement eagerly. The fire monster’s stomach tensed as the skeleton’s thumb tested him, rocking up and down his clit, experimentally shifting from side to side. The tips of his fingers slid against his entrance so Sans curled them away, much to Grillby’s next protest. _“Thought you were to…”_

The thought dropped and Sans shot him a confused look, then his expression softened. He could get the hint. Playing off his earlier joke, the skeleton skimmed the other’s entrance, impossibly warm slick touching upon his fingers as he dragged it up again. Grillby’s eyes were fixed where Sans had him in place, watching as his forearm moved and his fingers dipping inside once more, barely penetrating.

He huffed as a faint tingle of pleasure surged through him. _“Just like that.”_

The flush on Sans’ face broadened bashfully but the skeleton continued, his touch hesitant and chaste as though he was afraid to harm him. Grillby only nodded, his breathing sharpening as Sans stole glances at his face, taking clues if he should venture closer or not.

 _“U.. up,”_ Grillby murmured, a shudder passing through his flames.

Sans felt the burn of desire in him but stopped anyway, his body obeying to hover over Grillby. He assumed it meant the other wanted a kiss, but instead Grillby laughed, breathless.

_“Why did you stop?”_

Sans swallowed hard, his soul drumming harshly behind his ribs. He dipped his arm back down again to trace the lips of Grillby’s pussy once more, pushing his mouth against his for a deep kiss. The bartender’s arm encircled his back, his warm hand pushing heat through his shirt as he tasted him.

_“I meant… `up` as in… `in`.”_

Sans swallowed up another kiss, the gentle request something he had no problem in indulging in now that it was made clear what Grillby wanted. He adjusted the angle of his hand, thumb resting and rubbing slow circles against the fire monster’s clit, and pushed a finger inside.

“feels warm,” the skeleton observed shyly, giving his finger a test curl inside. He felt a vague movement in response, and a deep rumble from Grillby’s chest. He realised that the other had very nearly done that to him, and Sans averted his eye lights again, grinning suddenly. “guess we’ll _finger_ this out together.”

Grillby nodded with a bit of a wry smile on his face. _“Repeating jokes,”_ he laughed, moving his hips down to gain more of Sans’ finger. He sighed. _“Feels nice.”_

Sans felt the movement shoot straight to his neglected pelvis and he laughed, his face breaking out in a less-nervous grin. “really?”

Grillby nodded, lifting his hips again, and Sans got the jist of it. The skeleton continued to circle his clit, messily thrusting his finger into the fire monster’s pussy. He sought out a little deeper, watching how Grillby’s chest rose and fell with his heavy breaths as Sans felt his inner walls, hot with fluid magic.

He clung to the harshly uttered praise, nervously accommodating when Grillby huffed out, _“A-another.”_

Always articulate, and yet Grillby stumbling over his words had Sans trembling to hear it more and more. It didn’t take him long to figure what Grillby meant by his demand, sliding his middle finger in with his index to stroke the hot and soft entrance. He couldn’t really figure why it felt slippery and wet if Grillby was a fire monster, but with _magic_ being the operative term, Sans really didn’t think about it too much.

He shifted his body to move at a better angle and with it, another weighted gasp left Grillby, coupled with a thrust from his hips.

 _“The, mmh… goal is to s.. stay consistent,”_ the fire monster sighed, one of his hands seeking out Sans’ rib cage as though to anchor himself. Sans nodded subtly, measuring out a soothing strum with his thumb to match Grillby’s breathing. It seemed like the best recourse. _“Apply p.. pressure, and…”_

Sans couldn’t help how the feedback made him feel and delighted in the subtle little aftershocks of Grillby clinging to him. Their positions had been reversed, with Grillby always the experienced one, taking his hand and teaching him. Now the fire monster was still technically teaching him, but Sans had the upper hand.

He snickered at the internal joke, angling his elbow for a test, aiming a little higher. Grillby made a noise, louder this time, his grip on Sans’ rib where he was clinging to tightening. His moan had been startled but audible like a sucker-punch, something Sans immediately wanted to try for again.

Sans kept him from moving in place, his right hand pinning his thigh while his left continued the movements. His face burned at the sound, how it felt on his fingers and how it echoed, tingly, in his own cunt. Grillby’s voice was low like distant thunder, gradually catching between explanations and rising in urgency. Feverishly, he started grabbing at Sans.

Grillby seemed unable to control himself. Sans caught the lustful gaze and hitched himself up again to kiss him, keeping his rocking hand steady. He felt twitches around his fingers, having gone from slow circles on Grillby’s clit to faster up and down motions, using the length of his thumb. He moaned into Grillby’s mouth as his legs were pulled closer and he had to lower his shoulder to maintain his reach.

Grillby’s grip slipped from his ribs to his hips, giving him a squeeze that conveyed all the want and desire in the fire monster’s hold. Sans fleeted a third finger inside, slipping past Grillby’s wet lips like it was through warm water. The skeleton could feel it, rubbing and keeping even tempo as sweat began to bead on him and trail down his neck and ribs.

It made his shirt stick to him, clinging. He had thought that Grillby was helping to remove the encumbersome clothes, but found the fire monster’s hand reached under to stroke at his spine again. He matched the strokes to his thrusting, getting them both off, every movement dragging out desperate moans from him. Sans angled his thrusts a little more, bracketing Grillby’s shoulder with his forearm so he could kiss him over and over until one or both of them couldn’t stand it anymore.

Grillby was the first to come, the clawing that accompanied it under Sans’ shirt was enough for the skeleton monster to cry out too, sensitive and loud. He felt the gush around his fingers and how Grillby’s body clamped down on him, twinging and throbbing with a beat that mimicked their souls. Sans’ moans were swallowed up, driven over the edge as Grillby lifted his knee once more to rub against his sensitive pussy.

The aftershocks wracked his body and his arm was tight and heavy from hanging at such a level. It made the strength seep from him, lulling him into tender affection that he could give to his lover. Sans allowed himself to ride out the pleasure, pausing once Grillby stopped to catch his breath.

Grillby gave him a devilish kind of look and tugged down his shorts and with it, shame burned on Sans’ face when Grillby propped himself up to close their gap. Sans was starting to feel weighty with exhaustion but grinned nervously, returning kisses that were short and affectionate as Grillby’s hands roamed his body.

He was hot. He was burning. He loved it, every moment of it. Sans couldn’t help the needy moan that left him as his lover’s hands encircled his hips, bringing him close.

“was it, uh…” Sans wasn’t quite sure how to ask, if it was something someone should normally ask, or even what he was asking. He hummed as Grillby pulled him closer still, lowering a hand between them as he kissed Sans, long and firm. By the end of it, Sans felt the familiar probe against his neglected pussy, throbbing just enough to crave _something._

Grillby continued to give him small kisses, one for each beat of his soul. If kissing meant you loved someone, Grillby was starting to convince Sans that he was idolised and worshipped.

 _“Very good,”_ the fire monster complimented, pushing heat into Sans’ iliac crest with one hand while his other traced a hot line from his ischium down to the mouth of his pussy. _“Especially for a first…”_

Sans would’ve preened a little with the praise, had he not been so deliciously distracted. His hips jerked a little with the sensation of Grillby’s fingers parting him, and his arms moved to encircle Grillby’s shoulders.

“wow, thanks,” he huffed, “g.. gonna give me a hand?”

Grillby grinned, unable to stop himself from administering affection. _“Perhaps… give you a few pointers?”_ he chuckled, and sunk a finger inside, slow and with a gently throbbing heat.

Sans made a low sound as though it was being forced out of him, closing his eye sockets so he wouldn’t see Grillby watching him. He so dearly missed the friction and his body had been winding down, but now seemed to rev up to eighty and fast. Sans _did_ notice one thing; he was a lot wetter than Grillby had been starting out. It seemed that slime had a purpose, after all.

He hummed against Grillby’s shoulder, inching himself closer, his hips rocking lightly for the finger to push into him. It was different, intrusive and burning in just the right way. Grillby’s fingers were thicker than his own, warmer and steadier, and Sans relaxed around him with an encouraging hum of delight.

The fire monster took that as permission to continue, kissing Sans soft and slow as he fucked him just as tenderly. The skeleton took to grasping at his sleeves, unable to stop the flow of filthy gasps and moans when Grillby slipped another long finger into him, making Sans quiver with the delicious pressure and pleasure it brought on. Even though it was only two fingers, Sans felt full inside. He had never felt full before, not when he was mostly empty, and he was so distracted by the feeling of magic clinging to Grillby’s pumping fingers that he didn’t realise he was making such wet sounds.

“oh… my god,” Sans whispered, then started with a desperate grunt when Grillby resumed the measured rubbing on his clit in combination to his thrusts. Grillby angled it just _so,_ nudging at a softness inside of him that made spots appear in front of his sight. He was warming up further now, his breaths catching in a symphony that made it feel all the better, coaxing soft moans and pleas of Grillby’s name.

If he hadn’t known any better, this was cheating and Grillby was going to make him cry from overstimulation. He felt his cunt start to clench with every thrust upwards, to keep Grillby inside of him while trying to hop away from the incessant rubbing. Sans whimpered, almost pushing the fire monster away as Grillby pulled him up.

Soon Sans was hunched over Grillby’s head, his lover’s hand smoothing up between his shirt to kiss down his sternum. Sans stayed on his hands and knees, his head hung to watch as much as he could while Grillby shifted lower and lower, until the other coaxed him to lift one knee to remove his shorts.

Then there was nothing but heat. Sans had a feeling he would be afraid of what would happen if Grillby got too close to his ischium, but nothing had prepared him for the thick heat that enveloped his clit at that moment. He crumpled, barely able to keep his ass lifted in the air as Grillby’s tongue dipped lower, hotness and wetness clinging together to create a sudden blinding pleasure that Sans couldn’t even imagine.

Sans groaned into the deserted pillow, unashamedly vocal while attempting to regain his thoughts. But there were none, just Grillby's hot mouth and tongue as it delved between the folds of his cunt, spread by Grillby’s fingers, rubbing him in just the right way. Sans panted raggedly, pulling at the sheets as he attempted to push himself nearer, to gain more of the wet, hot heat of Grillby's mouth.

The fire monster’s tongue was exploratory and gentle, firmly curling into the clenching heat of Sans’ pussy. Small movements made the skeleton above him hunch and helplessly fist at the sheets, wet gasps shaking from Sans’ mouth as he hung his head down to peer down past his ribs to Grillby’s head. He hummed at the blissful pressure, of how Grillby nudged at it to make him clench down on his fingers and tongue.

His magic was acting of its own accord, just allowing Grillby to manoeuvre him, the squeezing of his cunt easing with every fluttering little feeling that crept up on him. Sans felt it every time Grillby’s fingers entered him, nudging him towards another bright-hot climax in the slowest, most indulgent way. He attempted to move his hips back, testing for an unseen limit he didn’t know. But the hand Grillby rested on his femur held him in place, smoothing over the bone with affection as the fire monster’s mouth moved up.

Sans felt the throb of his clit swell with each flicking lick, tender and hot. He gasped, the sound watery as Grillby moved his hips down and enveloped his clit, running firm strokes over it with his tongue, making his hips jerk in order to get free.

That's when Sans shuddered on the feeling, of Grillby humming against him, reverberating against the soft conjured flesh and drawing his mouth around him. Grillby gave an experimental suck and Sans clung to the sensation, unable to speak. It took him several moments to mentally gear down on whatever he wanted to say, whether it be Grillby’s name, startled groans and huffs, or just incoherent babbling. Whatever shame that burned his face was seared away, locked somewhere between Sans’ ribs and mouth. His hand clutched at the sheets to the point where he could literally do nothing else.

It felt agonising, pleasure bubbling up in Sans’ body, coursing through his bones - to the point where it had started to become unbearable. He thrust an arm below him, trying to grab for Grillby’s head as he gave in, voicing his pleasure with a series of heightening groans and pleas of, "yes, grillby, _fuck!!"._ He clenched his eye sockets so tightly that tears started to sting them, his voice cracking in warning.

Grillby lay off for a moment, little playful flicks of his tongue giving Sans small jolts of pleasure while his fingers slid into him again, parting Sans with a quieter, hasty mewl of protest. He felt so exhausted, his body wound tight at being brought close to the edge, just to be teased again. Grillby's fingers toyed with him, scissoring open and curling in long, measured strokes. He was soft on the inside, wet magic easing Grillby’s fingers to push against Sans’ labia on the way out. Grillby tested him again, sinking his fingers deep inside, relishing in the taste of the twitching skeleton above him.

He gave the other another firm lap with the tip of his tongue, loving the taste of Sans' magic and relishing how sweet he sounded, begging for him and shouting his name over and over. Sans’ legs pounded the mattress as Grillby removed and reinserted his long fingers again, angling for Sans’ g-spot. Sans’ toes curled, his legs taut with an accompanying cry as he came.

Grillby grinned, pressing the skeleton’s pussy to his face as Sans made meaningless noises above him, overwhelmed, overstimulated and begging as he pulled helplessly at the sheets.

He couldn't get enough.

The room was bright.

Sans didn't remember closing his eye sockets, but his vision definitely seemed blurry. His head was turned on the pillow, laying prone as his entire body burned with a satisfying ache. Grillby was next to him, a subtle weight and dip in the mattress as hot fingertips danced around his vertebrae like ice skaters.

Sans hummed, his voice oddly worn thin. It crackled. It was oddly satisfying to hear, like sleeping in on a Saturday after studying all night. Only instead of science or math or something equally tedious, Sans had learned something else entirely.

And that was that Grillby showed no mercy when it came to administering orgasms.

He heard Grillby chuckle low in this throat and curled up as best as he could, seeking warmth. His whole body ached. Maybe a disk had slipped again, but it took every ounce of Sans’ strength to huddle up to his boyfriend. It took even more out of him to raspily ask, “did i pass out…?”

Grillby laughed again, rubbing soothing circles around the back of Sans' rib cage. _"What a blow to my ego… if I cannot even keep you awake during,"_ he teased lightly. _"Suppose that `three` was a bit of a stretch."_

Sans let his skull loll to the side, his breaths immeasurably deep. It took him a great deal longer to piece together what Grillby meant by that. Admittedly, he fell short.

"three what..?"

He saw the peek of the fire monster's smile and how Grillby's face flushed brighter.

 _"You're my `good thing`, Sans,"_ he purred, satisfaction and affection all at once.

Sans' soul did a kick-start, his magic coalescing enough to flush his face. He turned his body inwards and Grillby slipped his arms around him, pulling him close.

“this wasn’t the surprise, y’know,” came Sans’ voice, muffled at his chest.

 _“No,”_ the fire monster agreed tenderly, allowing himself to push a soft kiss to Sans’ brow, _“yet it was pleasant all the same.”_

“did you… honestly use my joke shirt against me?” the skeleton all but croaked with foggy realisation.

He felt Grillby shrug, his breaths ghosting against his neck. Every part of him felt sensitive, winding down after… everything.

_“Seemed like a promising goal.”_

“mercy,” Sans snickered to himself, forcing his arms to half drape around Grillby’s chest, allowing them both to just lay there, tangled amongst their limbs, and doze peacefully. Grillby hummed in agreement, unable to keep himself from pressing another soft kiss against Sans’ skull.

Sans honestly felt like the box could wait another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ilu all, and thanks again for the words of encouragement. ;;;w;;; Life has left me sideways lately but I'm glad I could get this out because it... just never left my thoughts. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> [3ouncesofstress on twitter](https://twitter.com/3ouncesofstress/status/1115852704608395264) drew ch 39 art! (sfw)  
> [C-puff on twitter](https://twitter.com/C_Puff_Person/status/1119317978816946177) drew ch 24 art! (sfw)  
> [Kaybedon on twitter](https://twitter.com/kaybedon/status/1124018076322861056?s=21) drew Grillby having a good meal from this chapter!! ( **NSFW** )  
> [zay on pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/posts/632764) drew Sans fi ~~n~~ guring things out with Grillby from this chapter!! ( **NSFW** )


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning sex, mostly fluff. Sans gets accustomed to having Grillby's hands on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **content warning(s):** explicit sexual content

‘Tangled’ was a good word.

All Sans could think of was how impossibly warm and comfortable he was. A dull ache had settled into his body, long and deep. He had awoken to the rumble of his snores reverberating in his chest and the vague kind of hum that emitted from Grillby’s low flames. He knew they had explored while he was dreaming, like invisible fingers that liked to roam and read every line, and his limbs and ribs were like pages in a book.

Sans knew it was a hopelessly cheesy and romantic thought, but he couldn’t help but feel it suited Grillby. His fires hummed, low and shifting against his glowing form without a care in the world. Sans didn’t have it in his heart to budge one iota. Instead, he basked in Grillby’s light, shifting lazily against him.

It was one thing to be pinned down, but another altogether when his friend weighed less than a feather. Sans didn’t feel trapped in the least, bathed in what felt like a very warm blanket. He realised that Grillby had lost a little of his defined form as he’d sprawled over him, one arm not quite hanging off Sans’ ribs onto the other side, while his other bracketed the skeleton’s head.

Cocooned in warmth, their legs entangled, Sans drew one arm up to circle around Grillby’s back to pull him closer. The fact they had both fallen asleep in near-nakedness never crossed his mind. He was a little sure that he had kicked his shorts off his leg in the middle of the night, as though to make sure.

God, he was comfortable.

While Sans lingered around the fuzzy-soft glow of early morning, it didn’t occur to him just how much Grillby had relaxed against him until he felt the soft caress of flames between his ribs. He smiled lazily to himself, his thoughts drifting a little more as he settled into a half-doze, sleepy and content.

The flames persisted, so gentle in their exploration that Sans’ sudden huff of surprise gave Grillby a start. His glasses askew, eyes blinking comically as he gathered where he was, the fire monster didn’t move any more than an inch to gauge the skeleton’s face.

“hi,” Sans muttered, finding his voice satisfyingly croaky. He didn’t budge an inch, just watched Grillby from his good eye.

A smile tugged at Grillby’s mouth, warm thoughts of their tender time together coming back to him. He resettled, too comfortable to move when he saw that Sans was alright.

_“…Morning.”_

With the greeting, Sans felt the blossom of affection in his soul resonate so close to Grillby. He drew his arms around the other monster just a little more, his fingers idly playing through Grillby’s sleepy flames. He felt a tug at his shirt’s collar, then a little burst of heat on his clavicle where Grillby’s mouth connected to bone, and Sans couldn’t help but wriggle in mock-protest, a grin touching his face.

“don’t know how to turn it off, eh?” It was peculiar the way his body warmed up to the affection as Grillby’s mouth pressed lower, leaving behind more kisses.

 _“…Don’t know what you’re going on about,”_ the fire monster said innocently, carefully moving one arm so he could move down. A satisfied noise escaped him as Sans’ chest swelled and bony digits flexed on his back in surprise, when he pushed a lingering kiss to his sternum.

“i think you know exactly what yo-” Sans stopped, interrupted by another tingling kiss left behind at the aft of his breastbone. Sans sounded breathier now that Grillby’s arm moved further, mapping out a trail of caresses that had him squirming. Sans flushed when Grillby rooted his shirt away from his ribs, carefully gliding the fabric up for easier access. “kinda early for this, isn’t it?”

Grillby’s mouth quirked at the feigned protest, unphased since Sans dug his heels into the mattress to meet his touch. It was subtle, but with such an invitation, who was he to deny? The fire monster delved lower with his mouth, exhaling hotly against bone as Sans’ rib cage heaved with increasing excitement.

 _“Unless, of course, you’d rather I stop?”_ Grillby dared to turn his head to access Sans’ spine, the skeleton under him gently writhing as he tested one of the bone segments.

Sans’ eye lights were sleepy, hazy with a dopey kind of grin on his face. Grillby read no real rejection in his eyes when he rose his head to survey the reaction, but nevertheless, he waited until Sans said something.

He was shy, as though voicing his pleasure was something he was ashamed of. Of course, Sans had no problem expressing himself the previous night, but Grillby wasn’t about to push him. Instead, the fire monster traced the curve of Sans’ ribs, watching as Sans’ breaths, shaky with excitement, took in magic to make his joints glow.

The fire monster’s attention was drawn to another glow altogether that matched his own, although Grillby wasn’t sure if Sans noticed it yet. He knew it would likely be difficult with his naturally bright aura, so he didn’t point it out. The light from below his boyfriend’s ribs created small shafts of cyan and white light, soft and warm. Grillby tilted his head in askance, flames crackling merrily.

“you’re so insatiable,” Sans chuckled to himself. He lay back against the mattress, taking up as much room as physically possible. He wrapped his arms around the pillow behind his skull, a delighted shiver running down his spine and igniting where Grillby turned, pleased, to deposit another kiss.

The flames licked at the spot between his bones, tongue pressed hotly against the magic holding them together. Sans sucked in a surprised breath, pulling at the pillow just a little bit to keep his hands from flying down to Grillby’s head. It felt like he had to hold on, otherwise he might just float away.

“h.. how’d you get cheat codes, eh?” the skeleton huffed, his voice jumping when he felt Grillby’s mouth map over the next bone. He felt every little caress, every nudge of flame against his bones as Grillby continued to explore. “mm…”

_“Good?”_

Sans blearily stared at the ceiling, his magic slowly building up inside of him. It took him a little longer to process what Grillby meant, before he ultimately decided on an answer.

“yeah.”

_“Sure?”_

“posi.. tive, _ah-”_

 _“Still have a goal,”_ Grillby’s said, mouth moving up another segment as he spoke. Sans gave in to a repressed shiver, bones clattering subtly while Grillby’s hand traced the flare of his hip. _“Out of three, if I recall correctly…?”_

Sans huffed, the sound amused as well as caught off guard. “you’re takin’ this wh.. whole `getting intimately familiar with me` thing a bit… mmn…” There wasn’t any pressure this time, just Grillby’s kisses in the middle of his spine and fiery fingers tracing soft circles against Sans’ hip bones.

_“Have you ever… indulged before?”_

Sans hummed, flush tinting his face as he inched one leg up to brace himself. He thought about it, about his hasty little misfire in Hotland and how unsatisfied it had left him in the end. Helplessly, he nodded, his voice catching; “y.. yeah, _hmm…”_

He felt the flare of Grillby’s body hike up in temperature and grinned to himself, fingers flexing absently at the pillow as he wondered what exactly Grillby was thinking.

Whatever demon possessing him to speak added haltingly; “you’re better at it.”

In the same movement, Sans pulled the pillow out from behind his head and over his face, muffling his gradually increasing breaths and any other admissions he might volunteer.

Bereft of feedback, Grillby stopped and leaned up to remove the pillow, revealing Sans’ flushed face and the sleepy shyness behind his grin. He pushed the pillow further, curling his fingers into Sans’, pushing his hand back beside the skeleton’s head.

 _“…Rather think you’d benefit from some practise, then,”_ the fire monster teased knowingly. Sans shifted under him as Grillby resituated himself, positioning his free hand to glide his fingertips in soft, small circles just above Sans’ sacrum.

He saw the flare of surprise and want flash over Sans’ face before his head turned away, exhaling a shaky breath of anticipation.

“beelining straight for the sacrum, huh…” There was no complaint in Sans’ tone, just breathless contentment.

Finally armed with the name of the spot, Grillby hummed in amused agreement, taking that as permission to get closer. He kissed Sans long and sweet while his hand worked in gentle strokes between them, peppering the joins between Sans’ vertebrae, lingering after each one.

Grillby experimentally tested the bone at his fingertips, keeping his touch soft. Though before he had been hasty to get a rise out of Sans, it appeared that going in impatiently was too much for the poor skeleton. No matter how he moved, Grillby wanted nothing more than to mark him as _his,_ to hold Sans in his arms and fill him with as much fire as he could handle.

He kindled brightly with the thought and huffed against Sans’ neck, the excited breaths feeding his passion as they tumbled out of the skeleton’s mouth. An almost agonised noise left Sans and his body cinched up to grasp at the back of Grillby’s chemise, legs trembling with the restraint to keep from thrashing. He hadn’t formed anything, either too exhausted from the previous night, or Sans just couldn’t be bothered.

Grillby just revelled in the sweet sounds extracted from Sans as he circled his fingertips fleetingly against the lowermost sacral holes, feeling the throb of magic tingle against his form. Grillby buried his face against Sans’ neck, his favourite spot, once more fighting the urge to mark him. Instead, he left more kisses behind, each one punctuated by Sans’ increasing moans.

_“How… does it feel?”_

Sans’ face burned at the question, clinging to the pleasure at the base of his spine. He hummed lowly, just barely whispering, “good-” The word was forced as the tempo evened out, a slow grind against Grillby’s hand starting anew as the fire monster’s fore and middle fingers bracketed the nub of his tailbone, hot and throbbing. “s.. sensitive.”

Grillby made a low growl from the pit of his soul, delighting in the shudder that passed through Sans’ body.

_“I like that.”_

Sans nodded slowly, toes curling as his body reacted to Grillby’s touches. His limbs stretched out, testing the hold on his hand, flexing his fingers on Grillby’s. A shy smile crept onto his face and Sans closed his eye sockets when he turned away, flushed.

“warm,” was all he managed to say, his voice sounding tight. “y.. your heat…”

Sans moved against him. The rocking to meet with his hand made Grillby flush, loving to be needed, to be wanted and to be held so closely like this. He felt the thrum of the other monster’s magic beat against his torso, so close yet _so far,_ he could just taste it. He wanted to share all that he was, ever since Sans’ mistaken touch against his own soul.

His hand fit so neatly into Sans’ pelvis that Grillby could use his thumb, strumming down the length of his sacrum as Sans gave a feeble thrust against him, increasingly frustrated.

“i can’t-” Sans gasped. His eye sockets were closed tightly, mouth hung open as barely restrained groans left him with every tease of Grillby’s hand, “i, i haven’t… haven’t made a-anyth.. thing, grillby, _ahn,_ i dunno if.. if i can, _nhm-”_

A moan interrupted Sans, restrained so forcibly that it sounded high. His legs drew up to hang at Grillby’s waist, tangling with his calves as they relentlessly struggled. It was hard for Sans to articulate, though Grillby could figure what he was attempting to say anyway.

_He was close._

He wanted to see what would happen, though. He wanted to see the light of Sans’ soul shine brightly, vignetted by flames and love and passion. Grillby groaned, satisfaction fuelled by Sans’ jerking movements as he attempted to draw himself up to see. Sans’ voice cracked, his hips bucking helplessly as a heightening series of gasps and moans erupted, just barely held at bay.

The light from his rib cage grew stronger in that moment and Grillby felt Sans squeeze his legs around him, both pulling him closer and trying to push away. It was certainly an effective way to make himself frustrated, though the afterglow of Sans wearily watching him as he came down from his high was rewarding enough.

Again, there was that peculiar look of searching something hidden between them, like Sans was attempting to figure something out that had briefly been explained to him in a fugue. Grillby only smirked to himself, winding down but still brightly lit as he kissed Sans deeply, his hand travelling back up Sans’ sacrum towards his backbone.

When his fingertips reached the middle of Sans’ spine, Grillby paused. He felt something, something soft, thin, viscous and warm, very different from his own heat. A scalding feeling raced across his flames with Sans’ expression, all open and inviting despite the fluster Grillby had just stumbled into. The fire monster leaned down, kissing him slow, letting Sans wind down enough that hopefully, the slick that trailed down his spine to meet with Grillby’s hand would dissipate.

“m’throwin’ away this shirt,” Sans muttered hoarsely, letting his legs drop open from around Grillby’s waist. “i don’t think i got another one in me, g.” He stopped as though in consideration, still flushed, and dopily chuckled to himself. “dirty jokes.”

 _“You do appear to enjoy those,”_ Grillby murmured, mentally backing away from the very real and intimate thing that had happened, that… Sans was paying no attention to, not really. Grillby veiled his confusion and instead lay down beside Sans, pulling him close so the skeleton could bathe in his warmth.

“heh. in more ways than one, i guess,” Sans replied simply. “honestly, though, you are ruthless.”

_“Will accept the shirt as trophy, since I’ve clearly won this round.”_

Sans made a sound in between a scoff and a raspberry. “as if,” he laughed, “you haven’t even seen my surprise. this round ain’t over.”

Grillby regarded him for a moment, propping his head on one hand while his other skirted around Sans’ exposed ribs. He made a point not to look at the glistening substance on the skeleton’s spine, just out of view.

_“Really?”_

Sans gave him a crooked grin. If Grillby could deduct anything from that look, he would’ve said that Sans looked _excited._ It was a good feeling to entertain, like a blossom of fresh warmth kindling inside of him. He loved it when Sans was genuinely happy.

“you’re gonna forfeit this time,” Sans said assuredly, crossing one leg up over his propped knee. Then his expression shifted. It was minute, the peculiar searching look returning, before he pushed himself up, hastily pulling down his shirt. There was an awkward beat as Sans looked over his shoulder to the fire monster. “uh, can i borrow a shirt? this one kinda…” Should he explain it? He wasn’t sure if he could - not entirely.

Without studying the look too deeply, Grillby rolled off the bed to approach his closet, trying to dismiss the thought that Sans’ shirt was no longer wearable… He searched for one that wasn’t too long, but since coming to Snowdin and wetter climes, he wasn’t able to find much apart from an undershirt he seldom wore.

Grillby turned to regard Sans, who had just finished locating his shorts from beside the bed. He had barely managed to fling an arm over the side of the mattress and if Grillby wasn’t mistaken, the glow from his soul was a lot steadier now. As though Sans wasn’t holding any feelings back.

It made Grillby’s temperature raise a little, happiness spreading through his body like wildfire. When Sans caught his eye, the skeleton grinned to himself, shyly, before averting his gaze and pulling up his shorts. Grillby realised that he was bare-assed the entire time and brightened a little more as he threw the shirt at Sans and moved to find something to cover up in his overloaded closet.

Sans hadn’t missed that. In fact, he had been wondering just how long it would click for the other to get dressed, himself. He’d rarely seen Grillby so flustered, so dishevelled. He loved the idea of it, and the whispered little way his boyfriend’s aura seemed to panic was rewarding in its own way.

Once he was sure that Grillby wouldn’t be watching, Sans tugged his shirt from his back, the cloying, sticky feeling just uncomfortable enough to merit a wipe-down. He grimaced while his joints popped, achy and right, as he reached into the space between his hips and lower ribs. Grillby didn’t exactly have a shower he could use and he didn’t want to call attention to it. Even if he was sure Grillby backed off prematurely because of it.

The textbooks mentioned that it was natural. Natural with monsters that couldn’t form any variety of genitalia or just didn’t bother due to corporeal restrictions.

Regardless, slime was part of the process and Sans realised a little belatedly how his brother had been teasing him all these years. Still flushed and noodly-limbed, Sans pulled the black tank over his skull, finding that however the fire monster filled out his clothes, this shirt appeared to fit him nicely.

It naturally smelled of Grillby, every inch of it filling his soul with familiar comforts. He couldn’t help but pay attention to it, even as he heard Grillby changing in the closet. He detected notes of clove, of cinnamon and nutmeg. He was no chef, but maybe pepper? Cardamom? Lit pine, crisp mesquite. Caramelised sugar, the rich notes of barbeque and good smoke…

It reminded him of… home.

And he was home. Between his visits to the bar before and naturally spending the night quite a few times now, Sans all but formally lived at Grillby’s now. He took in a few of the objects lying around the fire monster’s desk, his gaze naturally progressing a little higher when he caught a familiar colour just out of view.

Muted in the jar, filled with water and looking very meticulously taken care of while on the top shelf of Grillby’s desk, sat the echo blossom that Sans had gifted him. Though he was initially touched that the fire monster had taken the trouble to preserve it, the meaning behind it and what it stood for made an affectionate warmth kindle in the centre of his being. Sans couldn’t help but smile to himself, standing and staring, until Grillby emerged from the closet.

Averting his gaze from the blossom, Sans saw an open ledger, the scrawled ‘4,800g’ next to the word ‘freight’. It took everything he was to carefully school his expression to not betray the shock that went through his system.

_That was a lot of money for a courier._

Grillby was astute, however. His gaze followed Sans’ body language and his direction, then to the open ledger. He didn’t say any accusing word, knowing Sans had expressed curiosity over his delivery date before. He’d found it odd, but he didn’t press the matter.

_“Breakfast?”_

Sans grinned absently, his emotions cracking through to genuine laughter. Grillby waited, as no doubt Sans likely had a horrible joke. Grillby mentally prepared himself as Sans shot him a wink, approaching the door. It was always about delivery with him.

“considering you ate your fill and didn’t offer me anything last night, i’d say i’m owed a pretty _stellar_ breakfast.”

Not even three seconds passed in that Grillby couldn’t repress his reaction. His flames hiked up, wafting and fluttering hues of rose-gold, yellow and white. The air in the room gradually grew hotter and within a beat of Grillby’s flush, Sans realised what he’d said was likely a double-entendre. He turned on the spot, face flooded with magic, intending to get something to eat.

Grillby followed Sans to the kitchen, unable to keep his thoughts from racing towards _that,_ silently chastising his flames for their spicy interpretation of Sans’ joke. He had to restart breakfast twice, burning the first batch of toast and grilled mushrooms so badly that the skeleton couldn’t help but laugh at how distracted he was.

It was easier to cover up the fact that Sans was thinking along the same lines as Grillby, more out of idle curiosity than genuinely entertaining the notion. It wasn’t put past him that Grillby had denied himself pleasure over making him feel good, after all.

Then again, maybe it was good to get a little practise in the meantime. With that awkward thought, Sans watched as Grillby charred another set of toast, small embers flying around him like magenta and yellow fireflies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm mostly anxious because this has been a lot of horny content all at once, but I'm glad you're all liking it I hope X'D But regardless I am self-conscious because my updates aren't as quick anymore but I'm trying not to beat myself up over that lol. I APPRECIATE YOU ALL FOR INTERACTING WITH ME TTuTT I love to hear what your thoughts are and kudos and whatnot~ Thank you thank you ;;;w;;;
> 
> [farmgirl2012](https://www.deviantart.com/farmgirl2012/art/PFW-Grillby-chuckle-796982597) on deviantArt made some chapter 8 art! (SFW)  
> [enneadodeca](https://twitter.com/enneadodeca/status/1136125978466541568?s=20) on twitter drew art for this chapter!!!!! (SFW)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a helping hand, Sans manages to say something he's been meaning to say for a long time. Grillby is offered a gift.

Sans was more than a little jitter-legged throughout breakfast, or at least up until Grillby ultimately gave up, flustered and unable to control his temperature enough to even make toast. Sans didn’t mind, too preoccupied over salvaging the loafy remains with butter and fried mushrooms to really worry about it. Grillby was clearly overreacting and it was charming. He could only hope Grillby retained his visible reactions for when he presented the box to him.

Grillby would ultimately apologise for the lacklustre breakfast, promising to make it up to him later with a not too char-broiled lunch. Sans just shrugged, a contented warmth spreading inside of him as he tried different combinations of jams and jellies with the mushrooms, while Grillby made repulsed faces.

When Grillby calmed down to his usual colours and they had eaten what they could, Sans shuffled back to the bedroom to retrieve his hoodie, giving Grillby a bit of a wink over his shoulder as he shrugged it on.

“ok. y’ready to go outside?”

Grillby’s demeanour tended to wane when the subject of ‘outside’ came up, but he resisted. Not enough that it wasn’t apparent that he disliked the notion, but he gave Sans a wistful smile anyway.

_“Don’t likely have any choice now, do I?”_

Sans grinned a little more as he sunk down to his knees beside the bed and fished blindly under it for an errant sock. His joints ached, sockets popping a little noisily when he stretched, revealing that he’d been successful in his hunt.

“i mean, can you tell me `no`?”

Grillby crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the door jamb, looking thoughtful.

_“Suppose not.”_

Sans turned and grinned at him; he really did feel better overall. Nervousness and excitement roiled around in his bones like tiny bursts of energy, just waiting to pop free. The corner of his mouth quirked when he looked up to glance at Grillby, whom had pushed himself away from the door’s opening to approach.

But damn if he didn’t feel good all at once after everything that had happened. Sans stood poised, half dressed in his hoodie with one sock pulled on. Grillby helped him, his touch lingering, smoothing out the fabric in a way that mimicked an iron, pushing heat into his hoodie.

Sans sighed deeply when Grillby cupped his jaw, a flutter in his soul with the fire monster’s touch, just waiting for whatever it was that Grillby would say. Maybe he would lean in closer for a kiss, maybe send a pulse of warmth throughout his body, or… Grillby had his dramatic moments, as though the silence between them was a resounding affection for Sans.

Heat touched Sans’ cheekbones when he thought about it. Appreciated, cherished, wanted, _loved…_

He recalled the unspoken way Grillby’s fire had suggested it, tender and sweet, conveying his emotions without words. Somehow Sans just understood, but he didn’t have any meaningful way to admit his feelings, even though he was sure Grillby understood.

Still, there was a need to say it out loud. Just in case.

But… _could_ he say it?

“hey, grillby,” he started tentatively. Nervousness bubbled inside of him alongside the aching need to voice himself. Words evaporated and sense deserted him, instead baring himself down to the most basic notion in Sans’ head. There was a need to be frank, to be truthful and without ruse. “you make my soul feel good.”

Amazing. How eloquent. Barring any other emotion he felt at that moment, Sans was also mildly ashamed that he couldn’t voice the poetic justice in his heart. That it came down to a barbaric expression of ‘derr, you make me feel good’ instead of any kind of romantic thing Grillby might’ve said instead. Not that he thought it would be good to try romanticism after everything between them, but it was a reach all the same.

He flushed, embarrassed, turning his face away from Grillby’s warm hand. He felt his heat rise a little, Grillby’s colours paling to that sweet gold to accompany the stunned look.

Whatever Grillby thought in return, Sans couldn’t say, but Grillby was good at examining every word as though it held secrets. Other times, the bartender slipped up. It appeared as though he was stuck on something, and as the words whirled in his head, Grillby looked more and more surprised like a slow detonation.

Either Sans had meant it affectionately, or Grillby was thinking he meant something else; the sharing of their souls, the very literal mingling of their essences.

Whatever the reason, Grillby was shocked into silence, and Sans was getting cold feet as a result. It would’ve been more direct to say ‘I love you’, even after all that had happened, but Sans was still caught up on it, trapped in his nonexistent throat like a buzzing fly. He turned the fly into an awkward, bashful chuckle and patted Grillby’s arm still hanging close to his chest.

“c’mon, man. y’know what i mean,” he muttered sheepishly.

Grillby’s expression softened, his surprise flitting away as flames languidly stretched out between them, bridging the gap as though to read Sans’ thoughts. Sans continued to blush, the silence trapping him. But he refused to allow it to for long.

“you know that i, uh…” he tried again, the sentence aborting prematurely. Sans scuffed his foot on the floor, swallowing the tight knot he felt settle behind his jaw. “i got, uh… emotions…” There was more of that genuine brain-jamming sentiment. Sans could almost feel himself recoil into his marrow.

Grillby’s mouth quirked in fond amusement, though it didn’t convey condescension as Sans was expecting. He was charmed while Sans barrelled through the thoughts constantly hanging up and redialing in his head.

Sans tried again. “lots of `em.” The knot tightened, his soul was trembling with how light it felt, as though it would burst at any moment. “lots of… various emotions.”

Well. That was _one_ way to say it, Sans thought. Hidden in the words, just as Grillby would eventually figure out. The fire monster waited a moment longer, as though he was expecting more from Sans. When the skeleton didn’t offer anything else, he leaned forward and gave Sans a kiss, hands sliding down Sans’ chest and smoothing down the fabric.

A tingle caught in Sans’ rib cage, fuzzy and light. Fire slinked out from Grillby’s cuff as he brought his hand up again, whispering against Sans’ jawline, creeping down his neck.

_‘Treasured.’_

It was tender and sweet. Sans felt Grillby linger closer, depositing a kiss against his cheek, a gentle gift that made him want to express more. He pushed his hand out, tentatively laying it flat against Grillby’s chest. His fingers spread to cover more of the light echoing from behind Grillby’s clothes, a muted glow that was only just hidden by the light of his flames.

Sans pushed him forward, just a little, so there was enough space between them to sign. Practised but nervous, Sans’ hands shook as he signed out the first thing. Alphabetically instead of the meanings. It was everything he could not to falter, his voice pinching as he struggled to say the word at the same time.

As Sans signed the first letter ‘L’, he spoke, his soul trembling, “lots-” followed by the next, ‘O’, his breath catching when Grillby’s flames stuttered with anticipation, “-of-” then another, the ‘V’ clumsy and half-formed, “-various-” He clenched his fist, thumb crooked under his clasped fingers. ‘E’ trembled from his fist and Sans hesitated; finality was a rooted fear inside of him and suddenly he was afraid of what that meant to Grillby.

It wasn’t fair to the other monster, who was a beacon of kindness and patience far better suited to Sans’ trait than Sans could ever be. The skeleton shifted, worried, before just allowing himself to say it, a disconnect happening when he did so.

“emotions. for you.” 

Sans’ mouth felt dry. He was scared, immediately nervous and running over what he’d confessed in his mind. But at the same time, he felt the genuine happiness break through from the fear when he saw a few buzzing embers from Grillby’s exposed flames, seemingly shell-shocked. His face felt awash with heat, and even if Grillby didn’t say anything, at least he had said it. And meant it. But god, why wasn’t he saying anything??

“uh, did-” he tried again, a leaden heaviness settling into his feet to root him in place. “…didn’t know i had to spell it out for you, grillby.” He tried to brush off his uneasiness and worry as a joke. He dropped his hand’s sign and playfully swatted Grillby in the chest with a wink.

The fire monster watched him, his mouth curling into a warm smile when he recovered. He could feel the nervousness pouring off from Sans in waves, how the skeleton had to feel tense and afraid to stay. It was a bold confession, even if he’d said it before, beating around the bush instead of saying it directly.

But “I have love for you” in Sans’ own voice, not made in error, made Grillby’s heart and soul thunder. He was caught in a maelstrom of affection so suddenly that he was reliving it, finally able to hear in no uncertain terms what Sans put to words. He just wanted to blurt out the same, to give in to all the mushy, pent up feelings that raced throughout his body. He leaned forward, his eyes lowering to the cyan bloom beneath Sans’ borrowed shirt, how it wavered a little in hesitance. He knew the longer he stayed quiet, relishing the moment, the more it would feed the other monster’s anxiety.

So even in the short moment that passed, Grillby pushed himself past the flutter of nerves to reciprocate, Sans’ voice repeating the words in his head like something he wanted to hold onto forever. Grillby allowed his flames to reach out and pool around Sans’ face, drawing him near, letting the flickers of light echo his heart’s deepest desire. The sentiment really did make him feel euphoric, so much that he could barely hold his excitement at bay. The flames tickled Sans, enough to draw out an odd-sounding laugh, all tight and nervous.

It hadn’t been the first time they’d said it, but it was the first time neither of them bolted. Grillby breathed in deep, because on some level he was afraid to scare Sans away. Very softly, he breathed out, pretending calm when his heart felt anything but.

 _“…And I love you.”_ Adored him. Cherished him. Wanted for Sans to be happy, always, would make it true and devote himself to the little impish skeleton regardless of anything and everything the world held for them. Even if they’d never see the moon in the sky or the coloured clouds that followed a setting sun, Grillby would still be content.

He could see the bashful way Sans rolled a shoulder, as though to shrug off his nerves. He could feel the flutter of magic expressed by the skeleton, happy and endearing, just _allowing_ himself to feel what he felt. Cyan hues wafted from the other’s bones, mimicking flames, tangling between the fires that lingered close. Grillby wondered if Sans knew what that meant, or if the dopey, part dumbstruck, part lovestruck look on Sans’ face had anything to do with it.

 _“…Alright?”_ Grillby enquired, hushed, as he watched the magic move around Sans’ rib cage like a chasing daydream.

Half a beat later, the skeleton seemed to remember himself, recovering and grinning like an idiot. “gimme a sec. just processing it.”

_“Should take two. Going to check my phone line. Believe I hear dial-up noises.”_

That seemed to reboot whatever was happening in Sans’ skull. He gave a cheeky grin, still flushed, and laughed to himself, the sound a whole world lighter. “ok. we should go, then. before i run off or you start to take over valuable oxygen reserves.”

Grillby smirked and patted Sans’ cheek knowingly. It seemed like Sans was reaching his limit on being teased, but his soul was glowing in full force. His smile was genuine, reaching his eye sockets and he was relaxed and _happy_ and enjoying himself.

The fire monster thought it a good look on him, so he complied. They took their time in getting ready, unable to truly part for long. Grillby helped Sans zip up his hoodie, pressing out the creases with his warm hands while Sans did his honest best in tying his tie, all the while commenting how they were just tired bowties. Grillby pulled on his shoes, tying up his laces while Sans shuffled around the room, as ready as he ever would be.

He wasn’t sure if Grillby could detect how nervous and excited he was, but the closer they got to being ready to leave, the more Sans felt his bones jitter at the sockets in anticipation. When had been the last time that he truly felt like this?

Maybe when he and Papyrus had moved from the Capital, although he didn’t really remember much from that time, and perhaps Sans recalled being a little subdued. He kept to the present, snerking when Grillby held out his arm for him to take. Just like a true gentleman.

“c’mon, man.” Sans stuffed his hands into his pockets, shrugging into the direction of the stairs leading down. “got your ride waitin’.”

The flames from Grillby’s body leaned towards Sans, who led the way. He felt it was interesting in a way that the fire monster’s aura shifted to be closer to him, to hang tight and not let go. It was reassuring, even when it mingled with his own magic, touching him with warmth and comfort.

Sans led Grillby out of the fire exit, taking note of the extremely pleased expression that passed over the fire monster’s face. The skeleton then gestured vaguely towards the toboggan, shrugging into his hoodie in a familiar slouch.

He ended up dragging it alongside Grillby, whose flames lowered while in the chilly wind. Snowflakes descended, quiet and muting the noise around them. Sundays were quiet in Snowdin, and the surrounding snowy fields, frozen tundras and sleepy villages made it feel like they had the day to themselves.

While Sans knew this was a bit of a gamble, knowing Grillby’s handicap while outdoors, he couldn’t help but notice when the fire monster hesitated on the ice bridge leading into the large thicket where the box lay hidden. Sans could see the relief on Grillby’s face when he pieced together that they would be sheltered from the cold, but also nervous from all the flammable trees nearby.

“it’s ok, grillbz,” Sans offered, taking the fire monster’s hand. He gave it a light tug, his grip reassuring as Grillby drew his flames close to his body, reddening in concern. It was likely that he didn’t trust anywhere that could hide potential threats.

Further into the thicket, they heard the sounds of children playing. Excited screams and whoops along with the pummel of footsteps echoed loudly around the two. Occasionally Sans heard something that made his grin crack suddenly, and Grillby would be left wondering what was so funny. He’d been long used to the sounds of kids in the street that any noises just seemed commonplace and unimportant.

Another sharper sound travelled through the air along with a peal of laughter. Sans hooked his arm into Grillby’s to keep him close, just trying to restrain his laughter.

Grillby’s eyes narrowed in amused suspicion. _“Don’t tell me…”_

The sounds of whoopie cushions echoed in the thicket and Sans was trying very desperately not to laugh out loud. He closed one eye socket, gritting his teeth to not give in.

Grillby sighed, the mirth in the long clearing forcing him to relax. His flames plumed a little, experimentally shifting outwards as though to stretch in the tight spot.

Sans tugged him by the arm, snickering under his breath as he led Grillby further in. The floor was icy and shone with a multitude of footsteps. Breaking the trails were tiny little balloons in various colours and sizes, mostly enough to fit into the size of one’s palm. Grillby had caught enough of these whoopie cushions to know this was one of Sans’ ultimate pranks.

_“Sans… really.”_

Sans shot him an innocent look, “g, trust me, i know we were havin’ a fart to fart earlier, but no need to blow me off here.”

Grillby covered his mouth in order to hide his grin. The last thing he needed was to encourage more fart jokes.

“that and, uh, i don’t see why this would be an issue. i just know you’ll have a gas.”

Grillby turned around, covering his face so Sans couldn’t see he was _definitely_ laughing now. It would have been a good distinction to carry on, but his boot landed on an errant cushion, its resounding noise causing Sans to bellow hysterically.

 _“Is this your grand surprise,”_ Grillby flushed between words, _“or are you just full of hot air?”_

Sans’ grin lit up like fireworks and while Grillby regretted it, he found he couldn’t linger away for long.

“y’got me, g. i can’t fully contain myself. it just breaks outta me.”

_“You’re horrible.”_

“it’s the silent ones you really gotta watch out for,” Sans nodded sagely, still grinning like a man possessed. When Grillby just groaned in agony, Sans knew he’d won and laughed out loud.

The kids that were playing around seemed to mercifully not have heard their conversation, otherwise Grillby was sure they’d contribute in some way. Sans was generally good with kids, if not a little awkward. Sans continued to lead him further into the thicket, the toboggan trailing behind them like a noisy third wheel.

That’s when Sans stopped in a clearing where the trees opened up a little more. They had passed a few little ones playing and making mounds of snow igloos and poffs, but they had dispersed. What Grillby saw made a rush of heat escape him, flooding his very core with something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Seemingly inordinate, but very likely something that Sans had crafted, sat a chest on the ground, cocooned by a snow drift. It was darker than most, far more larger than any of the dimensional boxes normally left around, and its hinges were bronzed and frosted over. The wood had been stained a deep colour that shifted with the hues reflecting off the snow; one moment it was a rich, distressed taupe, while it shifted into an ombre violet. As they approached, the shifting light from Grillby’s fires made the box come to life, warm oranges and golds flickering on its surface.

It was as though the scene was framed around the chest. Sans’ eye lights were settled on it when Grillby looked to him to attempt to see what could be going on. What was the surprise? There had to be more to it; Sans had a look about him that exuded a tentative pride, fragile happiness that shone through his smile.

So Grillby approached the mass of whoopie cushions littered around, carefully making sure to step onto each one he passed. It caused restrained laughter to wheeze from the skeleton, so the fire monster made the special effort to crush one under his foot for maximum effect, just for him.

Grillby reached out with his hand to run his fingers down part of the metal bracing from the curved lid, unsure just why he was inspecting it.

_“Sans…?”_

The skeleton sidled up next to him. Sans looked absolutely dwarfed next to such a chest, and Grillby could very distinctly make the connection between the size of it and the toboggan his boyfriend had insisted upon bringing. Right now, it lay a small distance away, waiting to be put to use.

“yeah, babe.”

It was an easy enough pet name, one he’d been called before, but Grillby couldn’t help but flush anyway. He watched Sans until the skeleton peeked at him from his good eye, smiling shyly to himself.

Grillby struggled with how he was to approach this. The sled meant that the chest was to be taken with them. Sans had an extensive background in creating boxes, but this looked a bit too refined for anything the skeleton bothered to make, as much as he was ashamed to admit. Grillby minded where he stood, realising his heat was creating a slush puddle around them, and he moved a little cautiously to circle it.

 _“…This?”_ He gestured down at it. God, he was being precarious. He didn’t know what it meant, despite being so moved that Sans would… what, exactly? Make something like this? Purchase it? What would he use something so fancy for…?

“i know you don’t wanna fart around outside for too long, so why don’t you take a peek?” Sans suggested with a nervous shrug.

Grillby read into it. Uneasiness - did Sans do something to it? Why was he being cagey? At the same time, Grillby disliked the way that he immediately grew suspicious over seeing a box. And it _was_ a fancy box. It looked like a boss chest, something that could contain any multitude of items for anyone to keepsake.

A niggling worry at the back of his mind whispered to him that Sans had been gone for awhile. Had been secretive. He had been worried but was assured by Sans himself that he was fine. Grillby felt his soul shudder at the parallel, not helping but draw the connection between Sans’ sudden disappearance and when he had severely hurt himself when he had ignited the dimensional box.

How long had it taken for him to recover…? Grillby mentally counted the days; while Sans grew increasingly concerned, yet he tried to keep optimistic.

He’d never put this much effort into anything. Everything else had been forced and half-assed, but god, he really did want to spoil Grillby, right out of diverting a few things for a demonstration. He’d never sanded the edges of other item boxes, but he’d honed down and curved the lid of this one so it felt smooth and as soft as silk. He’d made it bigger. Sans had even perfected the formula Alphys had given him for her prototype, adjusted the materials needed so they were fireproof within throwing distance of Hotland’s lava pits, just so Grillby could use it without worry.

It was a gift he had put thought into; to be useful as well as to echo the feelings he felt inside. To mirror the breathless, unmatched freedom he had felt when Grillby showed him the sunset, and to paint it inside so every time Grillby opened the lid, he’d be reminded of him.

Sans felt his soul bloom with the sudden fear that it might’ve been too much, but at the same time, he hoped Grillby would accept it. Because it was him. He’d put everything into it. Right down to the quartz relays and the inlay opals that were carved into tiny stylised points to mimic the stars in Waterfall’s ceiling.

As he silently fretted, Grillby stooped low to push open the lid. There was no clasp, having no need of locks since no one really borrowed anything that wasn’t theirs. The hinges were well-oiled so it opened silently. Sans followed suit, resting his elbows on his knees so he could see Grillby react, for better or for worse.

God, he really felt nervous.

A simple shimmer was the telltale whisper of the gridline unlocking, honed in on Grillby’s magical signature. It snapped for a moment, clumsily, until it aligned unseen between its intended user and the code in the box. Sans couldn’t help but grin when it had worked after all, some of his worries fading from his heart.

Grillby appeared to be stunned. His expression was a mask of fire, subdued but hot, melting the snow and ice around him. He appeared to be taking in all the details, his flames gently wafting as sparse snowflakes drifted down from the boughs above, only to melt just outside his aura. His fingers traced the slow curve of the wood, his breathing catching when his eyes settled on the glimmer of opalline flames inlayed in the innermost sides, reflecting the shimmer of the box’s mechanics within.

Sans shifted, his soul flipping with anticipation for anything Grillby would say or do to show how he felt. And since he was nervous, he began to speak, his voice feeling unnaturally tight and self-conscious; “it’s, uh… it’s the inside that counts. mostly.”

Grillby didn’t appear to register that he’d said anything, so Sans cleared his false throat, his soul thrumming fast. He leaned a little closer to gauge Grillby’s expression, still shrouded by flames.

“your, uh… thoughts?”

_“What is it?”_

Sans brought a hand up to brace himself on Grillby’s shoulder, huddling near. The neutral way fire spoke was still so strange, it took him a moment to piece it together.

_‘This can’t be…’_

“it’s, uh. a box. why don’t you give it a go,” the skeleton offered a little coyly, giving Grillby a smile and a wink. “no more whoopie cushions! promise.”

That seemed to snap Grillby out of whatever reverie he was trapped in. He reached in, hesitance building before he pulled out a sealed cylinder of spice, one he recognised as being from his order that was delayed. His eyes widened, a flicker of dark orange passing through his flames as Grillby leaned forward to peer further into the chest. It was as though he didn’t believe his eyes.

Sans’ soul was beating in a rush of excitement, a warm smile on his face when Grillby looked back to him, his aura growing dimmer. That’s when Sans felt less and less sure, but tried to keep optimistic. Grillby just had to be awe-struck, right?

_“No.”_

Sans flinched at the pinch behind his ribs. It threatened to plummet his soul, jolting it in place, only to bruise and run cold down his spine.

_“I don’t want this.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really loved writing this chapter, just gimme Sans actually happy and laughing and fart jokes always, ok. And Grillby being soft. ~~And then of course things go to shit.~~
> 
> ((:u I am so sorry for the cliffhanger but I'm trying to avoid 10k word chapters since I figure they're taxing to read.))
> 
>  **[kaythegoodbean](https://twitter.com/kaythegoodbean)** drew the reveal scene from this chapter and did an AMAZING job ;;;w;;; Thank you, Kay!! You can see the art [here (sfw)](https://slyskerbb.tumblr.com/post/185948765309/). (posted with permission ♥, but also go look at their art, Kay's SO GOOD HHHHHH)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans gives an explanation and Grillby needs a hug.
> 
> -Sincerely, a box lover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **content warning(s):** rejection sensitivity

Sans opened his mouth as though to protest, but immediately stopped himself short. He kept still, unable to move, unable to process beyond feeling the slam of rejection. He schooled his expression, fighting what had to feel like pain well up in the very core of his being, as Grillby carefully closed the lid and stood.

Sans stayed squatting next to the chest, unable to really process the feeling in its full capacity. All he knew was that this is what happened when he tried. This is what happened when he cared.

It hurt.

He had to pull himself together, to see why Grillby didn’t like it. Especially if… if it had anything to do with him, or… well, anything, really.

Sans slowly stood upright, unable to look the fire monster in the eye. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, a familiar gesture that grounded him as well as self-soothed. The skeleton then chuckled, his voice tight.

“oh. ok.” It felt like a dead reply. Something that didn’t need to be said, but it was better than silence. He hoped that Grillby would tell him why; why, when he’d spent so much time thinking of him while making the box, ensuring it would be useful-

Instead, his nerves were both shaking free and tightening in the space between his jaw and ribs, threatening to wash his eyes with the hot shame of rejection. A cold feeling burrowed behind his ribs, empty and nudging at him to speak.

He had to say something.

Anything.

Maybe Grillby felt intimidated by it. Maybe it was too big. Maybe he was concerned over its structure, he-

 _“…Knew something was amiss,”_ Grillby murmured quietly. Sans started at the tone, the quiet, low gravel of the fire monster’s disappointment evident.

“i kinda wanted to keep it a surprise, all things considered…” the skeleton mumbled in response, and shifted idly in place. He brought a hand to his face, scratching, tugging at the side of his hood, wanting to hide from the fear that Grillby didn’t understand him.

God, he had to explain it, didn’t he?

“here-” Sans tried to start, and pulled the toboggan close. He situated it in front of Grillby and pushed him down, ignoring the darker tinge of orange that flickered through his flames. When Grillby was on his knees and facing the chest with something like veiled regret in his eyes, Sans repressed a sigh and knelt down beside him.

Then he simply took over, pushing himself to continue and to explain himself. He felt selfish in a way, for putting Grillby in the dark, where he could jump to any conclusions. It hadn’t passed his mind how that made Grillby feel as a result.

“i, uh…” A great start. Sans drew in a breath, forcing himself to speak. He wasn’t used to it. “you’re a good guy, you know that? you always lend an ear and listen, even if you’re busy at work. you deserve a lot, and you deserve so much more than maybe i can offer. but i want to help you, maybe in the one way that i know how to. i want you to be able to move freely, to… to know you can get anything and everything you need even if you gotta order it from the quarries or from new home or, i dunno…”

As Sans spoke, he lifted the lid of the chest, swallowing the ache in his soul before it did the same to him. He chanced a glance to his left, where Grillby sat sombrely, listening but looking utterly conflicted.

“i, uh-” Sans cleared his false throat, trying not to make it apparent that he was affected too much by Grillby’s refusal. “i made it with your personal signature. i got alphys to help me, `cause she’s cool that way. but mostly, i wanted you to have something that… i dunno. that i think about a lot, and that we shared together. that you shared with me, `cause you trust me. and people trusting me is kinda a big deal. because me trusting in you is a big deal to me.”

Sans eased back on his legs, nervously plucking at his sleeves when he realised that he was rambling a little. “it’s a dimensional box, just for you. anyone else, besides me, will just get these dumb little fart bags if they try to take anything out of it.” Sans stopped to gesture at the multitudes of cushions in the snow around them, trying not to sound like he was about to be crushed. “i, uh… i hope it was ok to redirect your delivery to it. in hindsight, maybe i should’ve asked. i just know you’ve been struggling a lot lately and i wanted to help.”

Grillby said nothing, only held his face in his hands and shook his head. Sans’ fragile resolve was starting to crumble. He fidgeted with the hems of his sleeves, feeling like his soul was starting to split right down the middle.

“guess i don’t understand.” Sans couldn’t help the defeatist way that just slipped out. He sighed quietly, shoulders slumping, just trying to keep himself together. He desperately ignored the way his breath shook and the way his eyes prickled threateningly. Out of the corner of his eye, Sans saw Grillby turn his head, as though what he said had been the most conflicting thing he’d ever heard.

“i said i wasn’t gonna hurt myself, didn’t i?”

Grillby remained quiet, but he knew his silence was damning if nothing else. Sans turned to face him, even though he was afraid and wanted to flee in spite of it all.

“when you assumed, i mean. before. on the phone, `cause i’m so good at that,” Sans muttered disparagingly, rubbing at his neck in frustration. “you don’t think i already know you’d immediately hate something that i’d burned myself on? that it would be anything but a good feeling getting a present with that kind of sacrifice? sure, i’d thought about it-”

_“Sans…”_

Sans felt another hot prickle of magic try and threaten its way to his eyes, but he resisted the urge to feel sorry for himself. “then, y’know, i decided that i still wanted to make you one. `cause despite your reservations, you still applauded my invention and how it changed people’s lives… and yours. i still wanted to feel like, uh… i dunno. like you were impressed by me. so i go to alph, `cause she’s got a working prototype already and she’s a smart cookie that way. i swear, she can make a crock pot out of a bathtub and some paperclips sometimes.” He says it with fondness in his tone, his smile rueful. Sans hoped Grillby didn’t pick up on the way his voice was starting to waver.

“spent a lot of time gearin’ down the blueprints, the gridline maps, or what we have of it… to be honest, i’ve been holding off using it since the, uh… `shakedown`,” the skeleton admitted. “i feel better lately. i feel like i can do stuff, and i’m not trapped in my head. and i guess… i just wanted to show you some appreciation. and that’s not meant to be a thing guilting you into accepting this - that’s not what’s goin’ on here.”

_“I know.”_

Somehow that sparked hope in Sans’ soul, like he was starved for reassurance. He resisted leaning over to lodge himself under Grillby’s arm, as tempting as it was in all the cold snow.

“the way i usually do it, i collect a lot of magic and stamina into a concentrated orb, and smash it through the exact nexus in spacetime that the box occupies. even without interruption, it takes a lot out of me,” Sans decided to elaborate. “this one employs alphys’ prototype, here-” He paused to point out the silver rods lining the box and its purple quartz connectors. “-but with some extra features. she likes the idea of the dimensional boxes, but she’s not a big fan of the `lie and fry` method either. so hers are based off transelectric frequencies and magitechnological radiance, instead, which-”

Sans stopped when he saw the way Grillby looked at him and had to prevent himself from staring him in the face, despite it being the very thing he so desperately wanted to do. He wanted to prove Grillby’s fears and worries wrong.

“i sound like i’m just making science things up for an excuse so you won’t be mad at me.”

 _“I think you need to continue doing the science thing,”_ the fire monster said softly, a plea in his tone. Sans felt Grillby’s hand touch the centre of his back, melting the cold insecurities that had bloomed in his soul. _“And I will continue listening.”_

Sans’ grin was again rueful, but he managed to lean in to the touch all the same. It felt as though Grillby couldn’t be too upset if he was willing to touch him, or to console him entirely.

“science thing… yeah. i hunkered down and crammed like i was at uni and i had a goal in mind.” Sans hesitated after the admission. “it feels weird to admit that out loud, to be honest.”

_“Why would that be?”_

Sans gave a half-hearted shrug. “i guess it’s not anything i thought i’d end up doing anymore, heh. i sure showed me.”

Grillby waited as the pause went on, then inhaled as though to speak. He stopped short, then hooked his arm around Sans’ back, pulling him close. He ignored the startled noise Sans made in return, just holding him against his body as though to convey his regret at refusing the magnificent gift and to apologise.

 _“…Had thought you’d gone and done it anyway,”_ he said after a moment, regret tightly coiled in his voice like a spring. _“Was afraid that despite everything, you’d push and… hurt yourself again for the sake of convenience. Perhaps that’s why I… get upset when you relocate us, and pretend it’s no great effort. Yet every time you do so, I’m reminded of being in a room, with you in pain… on more than one occasion.”_

Sans said nothing, but he at least understood. He leaned against Grillby, pulling his arm around his waist to hold him back in turn.

_“…It’s gorgeous.”_

A bittersweet appreciation kindled in Sans’ soul with the compliment, as though it was to _him_ and not the box. He smirked to himself, huffing in agreement since it felt as though the tightness between his ribs and jaw was starting to strangle him. It must’ve sounded like something else, since Grillby’s embrace tightened around him, warm, soothing, and desperate to console him.

Sans soaked in the comfort, pulling Grillby closer still. “thanks.”

Grillby’s body trembled against him and Sans smoothed his hand up and down the fire monster’s back. He thought back to the rebound and how Grillby must’ve felt at the time, only put off to the side as everything happened around him. Sans regretted it all, but he didn’t make the connection that the fire monster thought him weak. Just that Grillby thought he would hurt himself intentionally to make things easier.

 _“It’s really alright?”_ the fire monster huffed against his body, pulling him tighter. _“Really?”_

Sans’ soul did that same pitiful little squeeze as before, the one that made him ache to be needed. To be accepted as a whole person. His mouth felt dry when he heard the waver in Grillby’s voice, as though it was trying to trigger tears. Carefully Sans nodded, gripping at the fire monster’s coat as he was held tightly in turn.

“yeah, man. it’s ok. sorry i worried you, grillby.”

Once Grillby had settled down and Sans swore he didn’t ignite this box as he did the others, Grillby inspected it, his eyes glinting curiously with every detail the skeleton had put into the box. The opalline flames were inlayed into the sides of the interior. The green hues, violets, reds and oranges mimicked a sunset to someone who had only seen one once. The interior of the lid was carved to look like rolling waves, or clouds, and while Grillby could see it was expertly crafted, he could see where a piece here and there lacked something. Just a little thing to remind him who had made the box in the first place.

He felt shame all at once for rejecting it, so he did only what he felt he could do. Grillby pulled Sans closer still, turning against him to bury his face into Sans’ neck. He inhaled the familiar scent on Sans’ clothes, mingled with the skeleton’s magic and his absence of heat. He wrapped his arms tightly around him, until Sans’ laugh shook.

“does this mean you like it after all?”

The sound that came from Grillby sounded heartbreakingly similar to a sob. Tensing in the hold now, Sans’ eyes widened, not being able to do much apart from awkwardly sit with his arms pinned.

 _“You’re a fool,”_ Grillby’s voice chattered, tight and hurt. _“I love you, but you’re a goddamn fool. Never said I disliked it-”_

Sans was amused but managed to feel shamed by Grillby’s sudden outburst of emotion. Awkwardly, he flapped his hand at the wrist, trying to pat the fire monster’s back in reassurance. The embrace was tight and warm, but not tight enough to be painful. Just pleasantly trapped, held as though Grillby needed the hug more than he did.

Sans chuckled against Grillby’s shoulder, gradually feeling more at ease the longer Grillby held him. He readily slumped against him, his ribs aching from being compressed for so long, but he didn’t mind. It cemented in his head that the fire monster still didn’t treat him like glass, that he was sturdier than his past. He’d be Grillby’s main squeeze. Sans laughed at his own train of thought, sliding down a fraction when the fire monster’s hold on him slackened.

“ok. glad you don’t hate it,” Sans mumbled into Grillby’s coat and scarf, a grin on his face.

Grillby scoffed lightly, his voice still sounding tight. When Sans looked up, he thought he saw something spark behind Grillby’s glasses, but he couldn’t be certain. Grillby’s smile was unsure, like he wasn’t sure if he should be or not. _“…Have lots of various emotions for it.”_

Magic flooded Sans’ rib cage and he grinned awkwardly to himself, burying his face into Grillby’s coat. “tease.” It felt fragile, hoping everything was alright, but if Grillby was willing to joke around, so was Sans.

 _“Naturally,”_ Grillby said through a repressed shudder.

“how’re you doin’?”

Grillby considered it for a moment before easing up on his embrace, finally allowing Sans up after the prolonged hug. _“I’m sorry?”_

“health-wise, i mean.”

 _“Ah,”_ Grillby paused thoughtfully. _“There is… shelter. So relatively safe for now.”_

The fire monster stayed quiet a moment longer, his eyes going over the chest and every detail it contained. It was not lost on him the extreme efforts Sans took in order to create something fireproof and beautiful at the same time. As he understood it, Sans’ absence had been due to research, not because he’d been recovering from possible injury.

He’d been a fool to misjudge and assume what Sans was doing in his absence, so much that Grillby’s chest felt tight with it all. He stared at the cylinder of spice, sure it was part of the order that was both so expensive to courier and had been taking a long time to fulfil. The more he thought about it, the more he came to realise just how much thought had gone into crafting such a thing. That Sans was genuine when he meant he wanted to help, and the unspoken wish for him to be safe, since Grillby hated travelling through Waterfall so much. Also the security against meaningless spending, which the fire monster admittedly had been severely under budget for and stressing over.

The pit of his soul still ached when Sans helped to push the box onto the sled, and Grillby insisted upon cleaning up the whoopie cushions as well. It pinched behind his core every time there was a flatulent noise, wanting to blurt out how stupid he was for doubting Sans.

Would he know? Would Sans forgive him? He’d seen the look on Sans’ face - he’d been hurt, stunned, ashamed, nervous.

He hadn’t run away, though. It was a big development, when Sans’ go-to method for dealing with confrontation or his emotions was to escape. But Sans had stayed his ground, shakily explaining the process and his motivations behind his choice of gift.

And it _was_ a gift. Grillby knew he’d treasure it, but still be reminded of those few heartbreaking days and the weeks that followed Sans’ rebound and ultimate recovery. He’d think about it whenever Sans gave him those scared and tentative smiles when they were alone, the words ‘Falling Down’, and the fact that Sans’ would-be killer was still out in the world somewhere.

“hey,” Sans said, apparently for the third time. When Grillby snapped to attention from his internal worries, Sans was watching him, concern plain on his face. “you, uh… don’t gotta accept it, y’know. if you don’t want it, i gotcha.”

But he _did_ want it; Grillby just wished that he hadn’t behaved like an idiot when Sans was obviously proud and excited to give him something so thoughtful. How could he be so callous? Why, when the thought before of Sans wanting to give him something made him jittery and excited?

 _“I want it.”_ His chest still felt tight with all the hurt, all the remorse. Grillby covered his face, reaching under his glasses to hide the shame threatening to start prickling at his eyes.

Sans inwardly grimaced at the look. He’d only seen Grillby do it once before, and only when he had been so emotionally overwhelmed, when Papyrus had rounded up the town to help him clean. This time, it was a private moment, one that was deafening in its silence. Sans didn’t know how to console the fire monster, but knew he had to do something.

He pulled Grillby close, holding him to his body. Grillby’s body was tense but Sans could feel the jolt, a repressed movement that shuddered through the fire monster’s flames. Sans pulled him closer, feeling a sliver of doubt coil into his soul when he realised it was a quiet sob. Grillby held onto him in turn, clutching at Sans as though he’d never let go, like he needed him now more than ever.

Sans wouldn’t let go either. He twisted his body a little, swaying, rubbing Grillby’s back to try and soothe him. Grillby’s flames were acting up again, their voices so combined that he could barely make out the individual meanings beyond it all;

_Sorry. So sorry. (We are) the fool, never meant-_

_Please forgive-_

_Worried._

_Don’t be upset-_

_Love it-_

_Treasured._

_Forever-_

The little snapshots of meaning struck something within Sans, forcing him to close his eyes and hold on tight. It twisted like a knife, wedging between the spring and the ice that felt like it’d been collecting inside of him. He restrained a noise, a pitiful grunt when Grillby held him close, feeling the fire monster’s heat pulse and lowly flutter.

“it’s ok,” Sans said haltingly, his voice pinched and aching again. It honestly felt as though Grillby crying would make him do the same. “it’s ok, man. it’s alright.”

A sharp breath from Grillby and a definite sob, and Sans redoubled his hold on him, smoothing out his palms on Grillby’s warm back. Sans felt Grillby’s fingers dig into his hoodie, grounding him where they stood.

“don’t beat yourself up, eh?” Sans tried again, his grin rueful. “it was a mistake. it’s ok, i.. i make `em all the time.”

 _“Never meant-”_ Grillby tried between restrained gasps for breath. _“I’d have never--and you-”_

Sans rubbed circles against the fire monster’s back, hushing him quietly. It seemed to be a bit too much to handle all at once, and with the way Grillby just dove into work the moment he got better, Sans thought he could benefit with a bit more time off - to help sort through his stressors and emotions.

And maybe they could talk a little more.

“it’s alright,” Sans repeated after awhile, once Grillby’s hold on him gradually eased. “all this high tension’s been hard on you. and you’ve just barely recovered, right? you’ve been runnin’ on steam lately.”

Grillby gave a dry sort of chuckle and Sans shot him a genuine smile when the fire monster pulled away, wiping his face as he did. Sans noted the way the tears steamed in Grillby’s eyes, burning tracks down the fire monster’s cheeks until he wiped them away again, careful not to let them drop onto Sans’ clothes.

The fire monster leaned in close to cup Sans’ face, introducing the heat into the skeleton’s bones when he nuzzled him. _“I’m sorry,”_ Grillby whispered; no ‘I apologise’, no carefully selected words, just a bare apology with the rawness that he felt inside. _“I’m an absolute idiot. And you are too good to me.”_

“nah. you’re just trying to match my level of bone-headedness. you’re all good, g.”

Sans felt heat rise to replace the chill in his soul when he carefully rested his hand behind Grillby’s neck, pressing his face to Grillby’s. He felt the slight burn on his cheek and agitated the flames at Grillby’s nape to reassure him that everything truly was ok.

He really wasn’t good with showing this much emotion. Inside, Sans wanted to hide, but he knew the repercussions of what would’ve happened if he had just left after Grillby said he didn’t want the box. They probably would’ve fought, or worse, Grillby would’ve stayed mad at him for a long while. And he would’ve remained burned on the idea of presenting Grillby with anything else that represented himself for the rest of his life.

But he’d stayed his ground and explained himself instead of feeding the misunderstanding. It was a first, a personal obstacle fulfilled, and Sans felt wrung out and exhausted as a result.

He kept his eyes closed and shuddered a calming breath after a few moments, then said very quietly; “so you’d be upset if i asked if it’d be ok to move us to your place?”

Grillby gave a gentle nod but remained silent. Sans could feel his fires reaching out to him, as though to lock him in place and to keep him safe.

“i won’t then, don’t worry,” Sans added, giving the fire monster’s nape an affectionate stroke before carefully pulling away half a step. “you look tired though.”

 _“Can walk,”_ Grillby protested, his voice sounding more gravelly than before. _“Thank you.”_

Sans gave him a crooked smile, heat flooding his face when Grillby patted his cheek. Then he led Grillby over to the toboggan and gave him an urging push.

“welp. as penance, you gotta ride in the chariot.”

Grillby gave Sans a startled look and almost yelped when Sans nearly tripped him. He sincerely hoped it’d been on accident, since it left him ass over teakettle onto the sled, wedged between the chest and the curl of the toboggan. Flustered when Sans laughed, Grillby righted himself, keeping his hands to himself.

Against his back, Grillby couldn’t feel the thrum of CORE magic. CORE magic burned, smelled awful, and made his flames shriek in disgust. Instead, it had a soft warmth, like the soothing heat of his mothers’ embrace. It cradled the curve of his back, keeping him warm as he watched Sans give him a wink and take up the rope. Grillby thought that perhaps Sans was pretending, like he always did, to brush off offense.

But no. Sans was just doing as he always did, but with something different. Grillby noted how Sans was making an effort, just for him. He cared about how he felt and despite being noticeably crushed, Sans still chose to explain himself instead of flee.

Grillby appreciated it despite the guilt that he’d done Sans wrong. He hunched into his jacket, pulling up the scarf a little more as Sans began to tug at the toboggan. It weighed just as much as it did even without Grillby on it and the fire monster couldn’t help but watch Sans’ shoulders after the skeleton had briefly looked over to shoot him a grin.

God, what did he do to deserve this patient goofball?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [**I drew a scene from ch 57**](https://slyskerbb.tumblr.com/post/186299066419/) (SFW) of when Sans was taking care of a sick Grillby u3u  
> -  
> Thanks for your patience in regards to chapter releases ♥ I'd meant for it to be released sooner but ah well :'D  
> Look, Sans didn't run away!! And actually... explained himself pretty well? Meanwhile Grillby immediately broke when he realised that what he did was out of presumption that Sans hurt himself making the box. :'( And now he feels terrrrrrible :D


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans and Grillby unpack, have a chat about Sans' avoidant behaviour regarding the rebound incident, gardening habits and their ages. Sans experiences something intense.

It had taken awhile to reach Grillby’s after the slow walk back. Sans’ apprehension and lingering exhaustion had receded into a weariness that extended to the fire monster, whom had insisted half way for them to trade places. Not finding it in his heart to argue, Sans rode in the toboggan to watch Grillby pull him along.

The minutes stretched on as though they were hours instead, until the sight of the restaurant came into view. When Grillby slowed and eventually came to a halt at the back door, Sans pushed himself out of the sled and helped the fire monster to take the box in hand. Awkwardly manoeuvring it, the two shuffled into the bar, lights slowly illuminating in Grillby’s presence.

“where d’you want it?” Sans huffed quietly, taking a cursory glance around the empty restaurant.

Grillby considered it for a moment, adjusting his grip on his side of the box before nodding with his chin to behind the counter.

They managed, though Grillby coaxed Sans to set the box on the floor while he cleared a lower shelf of glasses. He placed each one on the counter, and once it was empty, he removed the shelf with a bit of effort. Sans decided to help him, unbeckoned, but Grillby appreciated it nonetheless.

The dimensional box fit in the recessed shelving area, where he normally would keep a crate for overstock. Grillby tested the lid again, his flames curling with curiosity when the telltale light inside flicked on like a warm glow. The space under the counter was perfect, and Grillby could push the lid all the way back so it stayed open.

Quiet for a moment, Grillby hummed and Sans took a step back, nerves ransacked and his emotions run ragged. There was still a tightness in his chest, pinching at his soul even though Grillby had tried his damnedest to squeeze it out. Sans just wasn’t sure what to do with himself now.

 _“It’s perfect,”_ Grillby finally decided. He turned his head to regard the skeleton, who seemed to recover from whatever expression he’d taken care to hide so far. _“You’ve… done so much for me lately, Sans. Thank you. From the bottom of my heart.”_

A soft flush of magic ghosted across Sans’ face and he stuck his hands into his pockets, wringing the fleecy material in his fingers. He knew better than to say it was ‘nothing’, so quietly, Sans mumbled, “you’re welcome.” Honest and pure.

Grillby watched him for a moment longer, then pivoted to hold out his hand. Sans looked at it briefly before he pushed his feet forward, his entire body feeling tense. Maybe he was imagining that things were awkward. Maybe it was just him, since Grillby had no trouble sending him a genuine smile.

He took hold of Grillby’s hand, who then guided him down. They knelt in front of the box and Grillby slung an arm around Sans, pulling him against the side of his body. Wrapped up in his outerwear and now indoors, Grillby was a veritable space heater. Sans breathed deeply, content for the moment, and pushed against his side, staring at the open box.

“want me to help you unpack?”

He felt Grillby squeeze him, then rub his shoulder, likely meant to soothe him. _“You look exhausted.”_

“was a lot of squeezing,” Sans agreed, cracking a smile. Now that Grillby had pointed it out, he _did_ feel tired. “we sure made a dent in that hug tab.”

Grillby chuckled lightly and leaned forward to reach into the dimensional box, leaving his hand on Sans’ back, as though to assure him that he wasn’t going anywhere. Sans had the urge to curl up against Grillby’s side for a nap. He knew he’d better not though; Papyrus was likely to wonder where he’d been since he got back.

 _“I’ve racked up a debt,”_ Grillby agreed quietly, pulling out an item from the box with a wondrous look. It was another spice container, emblazoned with Hotland’s seal. _“This wasn’t… in my order…”_

Sans suddenly felt a little embarrassed. “i, uh,” he mumbled shortly, his face feeling hot when Grillby turned to face him. “found a recipe. when i was last in the capital.” There was a beat of silence where he was sure if he had spoke then, it’d come out as a squawk. “been awhile since i’ve bothered to cook anything, but, uh…”

The golden embers that lit up the peripheral of his vision clued Sans as to how Grillby had reacted to that, at least. Sans flushed, feeling Grillby’s hand gently stroke down his spine, an affectionate little tell. Sans fidgeted with his pockets a little more, unable to meet the fire monster’s eyes.

“one day.”

_“One day…?”_

“yep.”

Sans couldn’t believe how hot his face felt, and he hadn’t kissed Grillby in close to two hours. Cooking for someone meant a whole lot more to him than just playing shopkeeper and slinging a few `dogs people’s way. It was a lot more intimate. He pushed himself forward, hoping that the movement would dislodge the suffocating tightness. He tried laughing, just in case it didn’t. He was more or less successful.

“you really procrastinate, huh?” he mumbled, a feeble attempt to change the subject. Another spark of golds and ambers rushed to his left and Sans felt emboldened for it, alongside the abashed crackle of fire. “clearly i’m rubbin’ off on you.”

Grillby managed to chuckle, moving to kneel closer to the dimensional box to pull out its contents onto the floor. _“Pervert.”_

Sans managed to grin as he tugged on a burlap sack of flour, heaving it out of the gridline and back in a bit of a struggle.

“yeah, you are. a perfectly perverted procrastinator that picks no proboscis and pokes pelves with peni-”

The fire monster suddenly laughed, shaking his head. Sans felt better at hearing the sound, the leaden feeling in his soul lifting.

_“Tongue twisters.”_

“gotta admit, they’re a lot harder to do now that i got one,” Sans admitted as he reached into the box again, after Grillby pulled out a bundle of packaged noodles.

 _“A tongue?”_ Grillby noted, then hummed again in consideration. _“Never quite understood its sudden appearance.”_

“never heard any complaints before,” Sans said a little smugly, just trying to keep the grin off his face.

 _“Thought I was going to drop my favourite glass set when I’d first seen it,”_ the fire monster revealed with an awkward laugh. Then he scoffed, _“Is no complaint. Just a mere observance as there’d been none before.”_

Sans realised this was skirting close to something he’d been trying to avoid explaining, though he half wondered if it would be safe to tell Grillby about the delay. Alphys thought it was finished with, _thank god,_ but Sans was a little more than apprehensive and touchy about the whole subject.

Vaguely, Sans shrugged and dug into the box again, this time unearthing a heavy sack of potatoes. It took the two of them to haul it out, as the wholesaler didn’t appear to get the memo not to put forty kilos of vegetables into one bag. Sans would definitely feel it in the morning, along with the previous night’s activities.

_“May I ask something… something that you might not like to be asked?”_

Sans felt his soul freeze but he managed not to show it; instead, he continued to pull spices, boxed cheeses, sacks of vegetables and mushrooms out of the box.

His heart said ‘no’, feeling too vulnerable and bruised, but Sans’ mouth betrayed him.

“shoot.”

Grillby sat back on his legs, turning a container of cinnamon sticks over in his hands. He seemed to examine them for much longer than what was necessary, but he popped the top off and took out a small curl, offering it to Sans. Sans hesitated and sat back, then took it, unsure of what Grillby wanted with it until he saw the fire monster bring up another piece to his mouth, igniting it with the tip of his tongue.

Sans couldn’t do the same, but he stuck the piece in his mouth anyway, savouring the earthy, spicy taste on his tongue as he watched Grillby slowly burn the end.

He recalled something in his head, from a long time ago; _‘Burning things soothes me.’_

Did that mean that Grillby was stressed? Of course it did. He had said as much.

Sans watched as Grillby stoked the flames on his head, then send him an awkward smirk.

 _“Now that I… have your attention, I feel… rather shy,”_ Grillby admitted slowly, a curl of spicy smoke escaping him. At least it smelled nice, Sans thought. _“I must be frank.”_

“be grillby,” Sans interrupted without a beat, grinning suddenly. “i like him best.”

Grillby’s smile turned warm and Sans could tell the joke had its intended effect of soothing the fire monster’s worries.

 _“I… have to admit that ever since it’s come to light that… someone had tried to harm you-”_ Grillby stopped and pursed his mouth, then drew in the rest of the cinnamon curl with a crackle. _“Tried to… kill you. I have… tried to obtain information. I want you to know this.”_

Sans’ eye lights shrunk slightly, his soul freezing again to the point where he thought that he had stopped breathing.

_“Never inferred that… it was you directly. Only incidents relating to that day. Oddities. Disruptions. Nothing came up. Not a soul knew what had happened, nor that anything had happened to you.”_

The tension melted from Sans’ shoulders and he released a shaky, relieved sigh.

“good.”

Grillby exhaled a hot breath, the smell of smoky cinnamon overpowering as it wafted from his mouth. _“It’s worrying.”_

Sans shrugged to himself. “better that no one knows. that way no one can get involved, and no one can get hurt.”

Grillby swallowed the lump in his throat, clearly wrestling with something. He grabbed for another stick of cinnamon, the curl igniting in his hands before he could bring it to his mouth. Sans had a feeling that Grillby had wanted to say something else to that, something that maybe bothered him, but he stayed quiet. Sans didn’t want to breathe life into the worry that he didn’t care about himself.

 _“Not… saying that is all and well,”_ Grillby protested, his voice small. _“Ferry noted peculiarities.”_

Sans turned so he could see Grillby’s face, his flames low and soft. He was clearly worried. Sans’ expression softened and he chewed the bit of cinnamon between his teeth, then took the lit piece from Grillby’s hand. The fire monster didn’t pull away, merely took another piece from the canister.

“i know you’re worried. it’s not fair to you to hide all this shit, i’m sorry. did you wanna share?”

Grillby nodded slowly, twirling the cinnamon bark in his hands. _“`They say yellow is for friendship, but what about gold?`”_

Sans scanned the floor between them, his mind clicking over to riddle-solving whenever the river person was quoted. He mentally fumbled around for an answer, though he hadn’t the foggiest idea how to translate it.

“dunno. what does it mean?”

 _“They spoke of a few… gardening analogies?”_ Grillby muttered, though he sounded exhausted and frustrated. _“Not in my nature to… possess a green thumb, I’m afraid.”_

Yellow. Gardening. Gold.

_Flowers. Vines._

_Danger-_

Sans felt a sharp pain lace between his ribs and he snapped his eyes shut for a moment, waiting for it to pass. He exhaled a short breath, affronted with the mental image of thorns, gnarled foliage and a wicked grin plastered on every cave surface in the Underground.

_░▒Y░u sure made░ a mess ▒f thi░gs, ▓uh!░▒_

“can’t say i’m good with plants either,” Sans admitted, hopefully sounding more controlled than he felt. Hah, that sounded familiar.

Grillby had likely felt the way his back tensed under his hand, but Sans drew in another calming breath, tinged with spice. It had a soothing effect, just as much as Grillby’s warm and spicy breath did. He turned the ignited bark with his fingers, allowing the soft flutter of flames to dance around his bones.

_“Did you ever… report the incident?”_

Sans felt a twinge of guilt and avoided Grillby’s look, staring instead at the box. He knew he should’ve sooner rather than later, but even the _thought_ of looking at Undyne and telling her that he’d been attacked, failed to report it, and that he’d been seriously injured as a result-

Well, that and it wasn’t actually an attack, he realised. It was an interruption; a serious one at that, which caused the rebound to happen. Still, golden flower or not, they had been the catalyst. He’d made a mess of things.

Plus, there was now the awkward point of him waiting so long to report that it would just invite Undyne’s ire all the more, and he didn’t have the mental energy to deal with that. Not after all that had happened.

Sans sighed softly, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “not yet,” he replied honestly.

Grillby stayed quiet in turn, but moved to grab another piece of cinnamon. He was burning through a lot. Something in his body language was off - stiffer as he jammed the bark into his mouth and reached into the dimensional box after their brief pause.

“i will. soon.”

 _“`Soon` would have been months ago,”_ Grillby retorted, his voice sounding tight. His flames flickered an off shade of maroon and deep orange, clearly agitated.

“listen, the captain doesn’t know about-” Sans faltered, still not wanting to put words to what Grillby already knew. “-i can’t afford to. not here. you know how people are. people’ll have questions `bout how i got up years ago when their family still hasn’t come back. no one’s got what i do, they’ll kick us outta town, i-”

Grillby heard the fear in Sans’ voice, a small break that had him turning around, the frustration immediately dying from his flames. The fire monster drew nearer, seeing the blanked eye sockets and the subtle tremors that shook Sans’ body.

“listen. i’m good most days,” Sans tried again, his voice strained as he plucked the cinnamon curl from between his teeth. “we can forget that it ever happened, and if one day i feel ok enough to report it, ok, fine, that’s what i’ll do, just… please. don’t do it for me.”

 _“I wouldn’t betray your trust,”_ Grillby swore in earnest. He carefully rested a hand on Sans’ shoulder, allowing his heat to permeate the spot. A gentle reminder that Sans wasn’t alone in all this. _“Promise.”_

Promises weren’t normally so easy to believe, but coming from Grillby, it sounded like an angel’s blessing. Sans inhaled a long breath, then shakily exhaled. There was a prick of magic at his eyes, the shame that he felt at nearly falling apart after keeping himself together after all this time.

Sans was tired. It wasn’t Grillby’s fault. He was just worried.

Instead of trying to convince the fire monster of anything else, Sans nodded. He understood. He accepted it. Even though he wanted to say that he was fine, Sans mumbled, his voice bare and grateful.

“thank you.”

Grillby pulled him into another hug. Though the tightness of their earlier embrace had been desperate, this time Grillby’s arms were soft and gentle like his heat, seeping into Sans’ body like a stalwart comfort that he thought he’d never get used to.

Grillby held him for a long while, his palms bracing Sans’ back enough to make it feel as though Grillby was trying to warm him up. Sans idly wondered how Grillby knew to do it, but soon the idle curiosity turned into a gentle quiet moment between the two of them. Despite Sans’ attempts to be useful and to help unload the box, Grillby’s persistent heat was enough to make him doze on the spot.

Occasionally, Grillby would lean forward to take something out of the box. Sometimes there would be silent observations, other times Sans could tell it was something he'd hidden in the order by the way Grillby crackled, as though endeared. It was nice to just lay about in the fire monster’s warm presence.

Eventually, Sans woke up, not realising that he’d fallen asleep pressed up against Grillby’s hip, draped in his coat and as warm as can be. He gave the fire monster a bare smile when Grillby noticed that he was awake and Sans slowly pushed himself up, rubbing at his face with the heel of his palm.

“how long was i out?” Sans mumbled, his voice raw with sleep.

Grillby gave him a tender smile. _“Nearly… two hours.”_

Sans looked around at the stock that had accumulated around them. Clearly Grillby didn’t want to get up for fear of disturbing him, but nor did he appear to be in a hurry.

“what time is it?”

 _“Time… for sleep,”_ Grillby offered softly, moving to gather a few cans of spices and place them on the counter now that he was able to.

Sans laughed a little groggily. “glad i could wake up in time. i’d hate to miss it.”

_“Look… exhausted.”_

Sans blinked at the fire monster, whose flames were mellow and softly glowing. Not unusual when Grillby was tired himself. “yeah. but how do you know for sure?”

The fire monster considered him for a moment, leaning in to cup Sans’ face with his hands. Like an echo of their earlier moments, there was a gentle flood of heat, whispering flames and a silent reassurance. Sans grinned to himself, hooking a hand over Grillby’s wrist to feel his touch.

 _“Here-”_ Grillby started. Sans drew in a breath as the fire monster’s warm thumb skirted just under his eye socket, tracing the worn ridge there. _"You look… old."_

Caught off guard but hopelessly amused nonetheless, Sans laughed. “and the truth comes out. how old did you say you were?”

Grillby’s mouth quirked in a slight grin and Sans could see the way he avoided meeting his gaze. Sans grinned in turn but didn’t move from the fire monster’s touch.

_“Four or… five…. Give or take.”_

Sans made a doubtful sound, still amused. “decades?” he teased, though he knew that since Grillby was a star, it could very well be millennia.

Gold flirted with Grillby’s flames and he moved to take his hand away, but Sans kept it locked in his grip. Grillby considered him for a moment before finally replying.

_“As if I would be so young.”_

Sans shrugged and patted Grillby’s wrist, smiling absently to himself. “y’got scores more than i do, though.”

Grillby mirrored the shrug, looking more modest than Sans had ever seen him before. _“And you?”_

Sans hesitated, realising just where the conversation would likely lead to. “uh… one and twenty-one, almost. still plenty young and stupid.”

 _“Young, perhaps. Stupid, unlikely. Inexperienced, very,”_ the fire monster murmured quietly, raising his hand again to touch Sans’ face.

“ok, you got me there,” Sans conceded a little awkwardly. He allowed Grillby’s fleeting fingers to trace the curve of his cheek. An idle touch to appreciate his form. He didn’t get it, but at the same time, Sans felt like he was restraining himself far too much in touching Grillby in return. “at least i’m not as dumb as when i was half my age ago.”

 _“First fifty or so years of a monster’s life are… typically the most difficult. One is still attempting to get a foothold in the world,”_ Grillby explained thoughtfully. _“Some have… more challenges than others.”_

Sans felt his soul sink with the reminder and averted his gaze. “challenges. yeah,” he agreed quietly. He didn’t want to reflect just how stupid he’d felt growing up, the blackouts… nor the seething pain that he recalled like a white light, when all he remembered afterwards was blindness.

He inhaled a sharp breath, as though what he’d thought about had ignited something within his mind, deep and unsettling. Grillby gently caressed his cheek, the persistent warmth forcing a gentler sigh from Sans.

 _“Need to talk?”_ Grillby offered quietly, his hands tracing down the curve of Sans’ jaw.

Sans hummed sombrely, unintentionally leaning into Grillby's touch, savouring his offered comfort. “should probably go home. see what papyrus is up to.”

It was a weak excuse and Sans knew it. Though he loved being in the fire monster’s company, Sans was tired. Not of Grillby, never, but Sans felt like he needed some space to himself for awhile.

 _“Been some time?”_ Grillby asked, carefully cupping Sans’ face in his hands again. Then he chuckled quietly. _“Did you… honestly just come here directly? …For me?”_

Sans couldn’t help but be embarrassed by that - and the wheedling little innuendo that teased him at the back of his head. He averted his gaze, unable to tell if his face was getting warm by the fire monster’s hands or from his emotions.

“you mean a lot to me, man. it’s hard juggling between you two. m’not used to this kinda shuffling around.”

Sans muted the surprised noise that caught him off guard when Grillby pulled him the tiniest bit forward, leaning in to tenderly press a kiss against the middle of his forehead. Sans closed his eyes, feeling the soft flood of heat on bone. It made his soul produce a hazy, relaxed kind of ache, like it tugged at him, gently, earnest to be close.

 _“Will share,”_ the fire monster conceded. Sans felt a shudder run down his spine when he felt Grillby’s mouth move against him, flames barely fluttering against his skull. It was almost as though Grillby technically knew that he had to back off, but was resisting anyway, as odd as that was. Though admittedly, Grillby _was_ something else, Sans thought.

_“Shall we pay off a little more…?”_

Sans’ grin cocked as Grillby leaned away, watching his face with a gentleness that contrasted his earlier concern. It made his soul ache that Grillby was so kind, so understanding. He didn’t know how such a person could exist, but there he was, sitting in front of him, asking for hugs like he couldn’t get enough of him.

Like an echo from months before, Sans out-reached his hand and laid his palm flat against Grillby’s chest, right in the middle. He could see a soft telltale glow, a shifting light so different than Grillby’s natural aura, and Sans could feel it become just a little hotter in response. Without skipping a beat, Grillby did the same, his touch firm and warm, heat sinking into Sans’ clothes to the bone behind his shirt. It soothed him, and Sans exhaled a shuddering breath when the tightness behind his ribs lessened somewhat.

It made him feel better, Grillby’s constant presence a reassurance that things were going to be ok. That he hadn’t irreversibly messed up. Things were fine. Grillby loved him.

…

Grillby said that he loved him.

The feeling that shot through his soul when he recalled it made Sans nearly gasp. It rushed throughout his entire body, his bones tingling as he accepted it, both excited and subdued. Grillby’s eyes widened with the reaction, a bright flush of cyan magic lighting the space between them, mimicking Grillby’s flames for an instant and popping, crackling like embers.

Then it gradually faded away like a dying candle.

Intrigued, Grillby murmured softly, _“My, my.”_

Sans coughed to excuse it, slipping his hand from Grillby’s chest to clasp around the back of the fire monster’s hand. His soul was beating a mile a minute while Sans scanned his mind for information. He recalled a passage about Resonance, but he’d need to look further into it.

Later.

Then Grillby shamelessly leaned forward, a smile on his face like he was attempting to keep from startling Sans. _“Can… feel it.”_

Sans flushed, unable to prevent Grillby from pressing his palm to his chest, firmly resting against his sternum. He could feel the thrum through his shirt and against the fire monster’s hand, finding that the sensation wasn’t the least bit unpleasant.

“sorry.”

Grillby sounded taken aback. _“Whyever for?”_

Lamely, Sans shrugged. He really wasn’t sure, it was just a defensive measure he took when he didn’t know how to explain things, after all. When he stayed quiet, Grillby leaned forward, pushing his hand off Sans’ sternum and around his ribs to pull him close.

_“Shy.”_

Sans sunk against Grillby’s chest as warm arms gathered him up, his soul still buzzing excitedly the closer he was held. He laughed to himself, drawing his arms around the fire monster’s torso to hold him in turn.

 _“Shy, though… a beautiful feeling,”_ the fire monster said, hushed and reverent as though he didn’t want anyone else to hear. _“Wonder what its spark was…?”_

Sans flushed, his face feeling too warm, enclosed in Grillby’s arms. He grinned to himself, knowing the exact reason why, but it felt too silly to say. Instead, he gave Grillby a squeeze while the fire monster held him close, his palms resting between Sans’ shoulder blades, just radiating heat.

If he could feel this way and not feel stifled into panicking when he got the urge to say his ‘I love you’s, Sans would be far more comfortable. Hugs he could do. Cuddles were great, especially when the person he loved positively radiated warmth. Sans pushed himself a little further into Grillby’s arms, muffling a few flustered words to Grillby’s chest.

He heard the sharp snap of embers, and even though his eyes were closed, Sans just knew that Grillby had turned a beautiful amber-gold. He felt Grillby’s temperature rise just a little more when Sans managed to whisper, his voice tight and tired but true.

“love ya, grillby.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to say the last update that I was starting to edit the very early chapters. As of posting this update, chapters 1 through 12 are fully edited and wow does it read a lot better!! I think that I perhaps added about 4-5k total in word length over those chapters, but some parts just needed fixing. Nothing different happens, but a couple of scenes were expanded (see: when Sans collapses in chapter 4/5, Grillby's reactions, etc.)
> 
> Thank you so much for your patience and your comments. I really love you all and appreciate all the love and support I get ♥ You guys are beautiful!!! ♥


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After seemingly followed by someone on the way home, Sans practises self care. He also inspects something about his soul and messages Grillby shortly after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **content warning(s):** mention of being held down, and needles

It took some time for Sans to extricate himself from Grillby’s embrace. The fire monster invited him to stay one more time, his voice low and soft but ringing with true delight, and Sans was sorely tempted. But he honestly felt as though he should go home at least once that week, to ensure that Papyrus was doing alright. He was a little worried after everything that happened, and while he trusted his brother’s judgement on people to some extent, Sans didn’t want to leave too much of an opening for a certain someone to come sneaking around again.

Regardless, Grillby said his goodbyes in the form of soft kisses, which soon turned frustratingly long and passionate, creating another achiness in Sans’ chest that wanted to be sated.

In the end, Sans was left breathless on the restaurant’s back stoop, his soul still fluttering madly like it was a caged bird trying to escape. He tentatively put a hand against his sternum to quell the feeling, sincerely hoping the reaction didn’t repeat itself. As far as he knew, the Resonance reaction only really happened the one time. He was… fairly certain that it hadn’t done it the first time they’d placed their hands over one another’s souls.

It was something to think about, at any rate.

Sans took his time walking. It was later thanks to Grillby’s affection, but Sans looked forward to being home. The darkness seeped into the town like a familiar blanket and threatened absolutely no one. Nothing was out of place.

And then he heard something.

It wasn’t the crunch underfoot, nor was it the muted sound of snow falling from rooftops and branches in the distance. Sans kept very still, his eye lights scanning over the horizon, carefully gathering a fistful of magic down the length of his dominant hand.

It tingled and flowed in a wild torrent, uncontrolled yet tentative. Sans inhaled a slow breath, keeping quiet as he pivoted in place to peer to his blind side. His mind was alive with the small growing fear that someone, somewhere, was watching him.

Nothing was hidden in his right side, so Sans slowly released his breath, held apprehensively as the darkness fluttered over him. 

Quite suddenly, he no longer felt safe.

He knew his limits. He was tired. He really didn’t want to fight even if it was a teenager’s prank. Sans shook a little, unable to quell the feeling that there was danger around, but he managed to push ahead one foot at a time until he was no longer barely inching forward.

He passed the library, skidding to one side when he hit a patch of ice. Mercifully, Sans didn’t fall, but it felt as though his soul was pounding hard in his chest, nearly attempting to leap clear out of it.

He knew that it was an insane thought to entertain, though if someone was hovering nearby, Sans wanted to catch them in the act. After a few footsteps, Sans suddenly whirled around, his nerves tight with aggravation and perhaps fear. A cold gust of wind was all that gusted by, nothing, no footprints or bodies, no evidence that he was being stalked.

Confused, the skeleton stayed surveying his footsteps and the slide of snow a few yards down the street. He could’ve sworn he had seen something. Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him…?

He rubbed at his face as the feeling gradually passed. He was delusional, exhausted, and if he was honest with himself, he might have overdone it the past few days. He still had the ready need to seclude himself in his room, but it came with a world-weariness Sans felt sink into his bones.

As he started to turn back home, Sans heard a flutter and not seeing what had come into view, he drew his magic in with a white burst and restrained a noise that caught in his chest.

He stopped himself just in time, though his magic tethered to the feeling that he was in danger, that he had to escape, teleport, _anything._ It took some doing, but Sans was able to calm down, his soul jackhammering and his left eye blazing between gold and blue.

Nothing was in front of him. No people, no flowers, no snowballs thrown at him. He exhaled a short breath, increasingly tired of his ragged nerves. That’s when Sans saw it.

A note.

He’d freaked out over a goddamn piece of paper fluttering in the breeze. Wheezing out a sigh of relief, Sans slumped his shoulders, dispelling his magic in the process. The note was crumpled, torn and tattered, stuck to his sleeve with a bit of snow. He plucked it free to inspect it, his teeth set in a hard line. The lettering on it made very little sense. He guessed he’d just put it with the pile of postcards in his drawer at home.

With a sigh, Sans stuck it into his pocket, then gave a brief glare over his shoulder, hoping that no one had seen that. If anyone had, he’d chalk it up to a case of the nerves. After all, he’d just delivered a whole box of them to Grillby’s.

Sans released a wry chuckle at his internal joke and carefully started on his way again. Now he was paranoid on top of being tired. He’d read too much into Grillby’s question of how old he was and he was a little scared. Not to mention with the plethora of things commonplace that he’d just learned recently, Sans felt ashamed for going without.

More things to worry about.

More things to worry about other people finding out over.

…

When he arrived at the front porch, he was greeted with his brother’s usual exuberance and gusto. Seemed like Papyrus was eager to find out just what had happened. It’d been a long while since they’d seen each other, and any other time Sans would be grateful to see him.

He pushed those thoughts away. He loved his brother. Sans just felt worn out. He didn’t normally think that way.

“SO?? THE SURPRISE? HOW DID HE TAKE IT!?” Papyrus all but stamped his feet giddily. “YOU DIDN’T COME BACK STRAIGHT AWAY SO I TAKE IT THAT HE WAS IMPRESSED!?”

Sans swallowed nervously, going through the past couple days in his head. He remembered a whole lot of heat, kisses, and embraces. Then Grillby’s expression that… was unreadable at first, then…

“sure,” he offered softly, his voice feeling tight. “got him some storage solutions. should be handy.”

Papyrus scrutinised his brother for a moment, then clapped Sans on the shoulders. Sans seemed to jolt on the spot but he’d hid it well, grinning a little. Only, if Papyrus knew Sans better, he’d say it was more of a grimace.

“SO TELL ME JUST WHAT EXACTLY YOU HAD GOTTEN HIM THAT WAS SO HUSH HUSH!! I WON’T ALLOW YOU TO KEEP THE SECRET ANY LONGER, SANS. STORAGE SOLUTIONS IS SO… SO… LACKLUSTRE! PLEASE JUST TELL ME WHAT YOU DID!! AND TELL ME YOU HAVE PICS OF THE GRAND REVEAL!!”

Sans felt his soul sink a little; he’d missed an opportunity. Though on second thought, it would hurt even more to have Grillby’s expression stuck in his phone from when he found out what the box truly was. What he’d thought it was.

He had to remember that in the end, Grillby accepted it. Accepted _him._

And Papyrus was waiting. Best to get it over with so he could hole up in his room.

“i spent some time with alph and we made a box with her plans,” Sans explained, heavily paraphrasing. Bed sounded great just then. “he liked it well enough.”

“WAIT.” The excited light that had lit up Papyrus’ eye sockets suddenly faded, only to be filled with dread. “A BOX… YOU DON’T MEAN-”

“i didn’t make it the usual way, pap,” Sans interrupted quietly. “honest.”

Suddenly very anxious, Papyrus floundered for words. His fingers gripped on Sans’ shoulders and Sans resisted the urge to give in and say that he was kidding. After spending so much time with Grillby and unearthing worries and secrets he’d taken care to hide, his attempts to be honest with his brother was just making Papyrus concerned.

Sans clammed up, unable to speak for a moment.

“YOU’RE… ALRIGHT? REALLY?”

Sans’ soul gave a tentative squeeze, half-filled with grief and the other with guilt. It was his fault Papyrus reacted this way. “yeah. mostly just tired from lugging it from hotland to grillby’s. it’s pretty heavy for an empty box.”

Papyrus surveyed his expression as though he could read the lies hidden in the grooves of Sans’ features. Sans gave him an awkward smile, then quietly averted his eyes.

“DESPITE MY… RESERVATIONS, I’LL CONCEDE THAT BUILDING A BOX FOR GRILLBY WAS PERHAPS VERY ROMANTIC,” Papyrus finally relented, his choice of words making Sans tense from his feet to his brow. “WHAT DID YOU PUT INSIDE? ROSES? A CABARET OF MINIATURE DANCING TREES? THE SPINNERET SEPTUPLETS?? WHAT DID HE SEE WHEN HE OPENED IT?”

Sans’ grin faltered and he kept his gaze averted even as Papyrus shook him in earnest. His heart said _‘nothing, he didn’t see anything past me being hurt’,_ and with it, Sans felt a bubble of shame fill up inside.

“nothing big, bro. just his order. anyway, uh… i’m pretty bushed. can you drill me on it later? feels like someone crammed rocks in my joints.” It was almost begging, as though he was saying instead, _‘just let me have some quiet…’_

Desperate as he was, Papyrus mercifully understood. Or at the very least, he relented to Sans’ tone. He didn’t know if Papyrus really did understand, but Sans appreciated him all the same. Quietly, he slung an arm around Papyrus’ shoulders and pulled him close, breathing in the familiar scent of bones and the tangy smell of tomatoes. Papyrus felt stiff for a moment, then the tension seemed to bleed out of him all at once.

He was probably still apprehensive after everything. Sans knew _he_ was. Sans sighed and clasped his other arm around his brother until Papyrus finally raised his arms to envelop him.

“you doing ok, bro?”

“OF COURSE!! I’VE NEVER BEEN BETTER!!”

Somehow, Sans knew that wasn’t the truth, and with it bloomed the sting of guilt. It wasn’t exactly rocket science, but he let it slide anyway.

Sans had spent a long time in the tub, water cranked up as hot as it would go until the bathroom was filled with steam. As he sulked, the tension eased from his body and the water cooled one long hour at a time. When Papyrus voiced his concerns about soggy bones, Sans decided to pull himself out of the tub to towel off, taking more time than usual. Taking more _care_ than he ever had before.

Sans surveyed himself in the mirror. Once more affronted with how his body looked, he watched himself with passive lethargy. For a moment, because his mind like to taunt him, he envisioned Grillby behind him, wrapping his arms around his middle to lock him against his body. A fair flush of magic tinted his face and Sans drew his attention to his rib cage and the subtle glow beneath it.

Why not.

It’d been ages since he had last looked at it.

Carefully, he drew out his soul. It was no different than before, though it seemed to be brighter with a softer glow of magic surrounding it like a cocoon. He still couldn’t believe how awkward everything had been, how things had progressed and, despite everything, he was still around.

And Sans was still himself.

The proof was literally in his hands. The stress marks were still there, highlighted by the glow of cyan that surrounded his soul. Sans thought about the Resonance and what had happened between him and Grillby and what it would ultimately mean in the future.

He was still afraid of handling his soul. In fact, he rarely touched it at all. Sans couldn’t help but focus on the memory when he’d gotten too handsy while Grillby was recovering from his illness and the way the fire monster groaned into his mouth when he lost track of his fingers.

It hadn’t been pain. Flushed, Sans gave in to a sharp inhale. It’d been an accident, though Grillby had assured him that it’d been fine. That it had even felt _good._

Nervous beyond all measure of a doubt, Sans hesitated, his hands cupped under the organ to support it with magic. An idle thought passed through his head, to dig into his soul as he had with Grillby’s, but he didn’t know just how that would work and what kind of reaction would happen as a result. Sans gritted his teeth, tentatively moving a thumb as though to trace the lowermost curve out of idle curiosity.

_You’re being silly._

It wasn’t a big deal, right? Sans swallowed the apprehension that felt lodged in his false throat and barely approached the curve of his soul with the pad of his thumb. The closer he got, the more his soul hummed, ringing at a higher frequency. The thought of Grillby’s warm hands surrounding his soul instead of his own came to mind and Sans started to tremble, anticipation threaded into a shaky sigh.

Unable to force himself to continue, Sans dispelled the thought immediately. Though he was sure Grillby had more experience than he did about… _certain_ aspects, he wasn’t ready for anything so close to his soul. Hell, he couldn’t even handle a little heavy petting under the ribs when the fire monster was feeling exploratory.

He huffed to himself. He supposed he’d have to be honest about why that was in the future-

_A hand or eight pushing down his spine as another lunged under his ribs, syringe in hand-_

Tightness welling up with the flash of memory, Sans anxiously stared down to the glowing organ hovering over his hands. He mentally cut off the way his mind connected the two separate events and instead weighed how Grillby had appeared to feel and what Sans wanted to do.

Goddamn, he was a mess. Sans braced himself, his soul starting to pound again, low and with thinly veiled excitement. He brought up his thumb again, just barely touching the soft curve of his soul. Instantly he felt a little sensation, one that flooded throughout his entire body as it resonated within him. It made a small bubble of euphoria pop when Sans carefully dragged the pad of his thumb a little more, just half an inch higher.

He clenched his teeth. He wasn’t sure if that had been pleasure or pain, but the bathroom took a hard left for a moment. He gripped the side of the sink to brace himself, stumbling as weighted gasps tumbled from him. The air around him rang as though he’d just spoken through a microphone, but he didn’t recall opening his mouth.

He hung his head over the sink, cradling his soul back to his breastbone to put it where it belonged. On the way in, his fingers brushed against its side, an empty ache making every tingle in his bones jolt like a live wire.

It took him a moment to figure out where he was after everything had settled. His bones hummed with renewed magic, just burning under the surface. His soul protested but he was alive, staring up at the ceiling from his back as the world gradually stopped spinning like a top.

Sans found himself huffing, exhausted again and with the accompanying sensation that something within him was empty and heavy at the same time. After he was sure that he wasn’t going to bowl over, Sans crawled up to his hands and knees, using the sink to pull himself up. Hopefully, some cold water would lessen the fact that he was flushed and feeling much too hot. In the end, it didn’t do much for the soft, hazy kind of warmth that wept from his soul.

As he ran the tap to splash cold water onto his face, Sans noticed that his joints were glowing a little brighter, a little more blue. The longer he inspected them, the more it waned, like an overpowered lightbulb finally losing intensity after a power surge. Sans wasn’t sure if that was worrying or not, considering he had reacted so strongly to the touch.

He sincerely hoped that Papyrus hadn’t heard anything. He gauged the tension in the air, straining to hear any noise that maybe his brother was eavesdropping nearby. He calmed between breaths, not as febrile as before, but oddly elated after the blunder.

Needless to say, he didn’t want to do that again any time soon. Still, he was concerned. Soul touching, sharing… it was something couples did, right?

He mentally stuttered at that. Were he and Grillby considered a couple? Dating, a deep connection, sharing their bodies and secrets… and confessing their love to each other in private moments. They did things for each other, planned or fleeting and without thinking about it.

That made them a couple, right? He didn’t know why he was questioning it again. Maybe it was because he was having a difficult time believing that it was real.

His gaze flicked to the phone perched on the shelf. All at once, Sans wanted to ask a deluge of questions. Texting was safe. He could laugh about it later.

Hastily and with a new burst of energy, Sans grabbed his phone and pulled up the screen to message Grillby, idly rubbing his chest as he tapped out the letters.

Then he reconsidered it and changed Grillby’s nickname in his phone to something a bit more daring.

🍬🌟 (Last message sent: 11:54pm);

*hey so i wanted 2 make sure

*just 2 make sure were cool on the whole

Sans stopped, his face burning. He hadn’t really relaxed at all, and standing in the middle of his bathroom naked while texting his boyfriend was pretty risqué, all things considered. Inhaling a sharp breath, he continued his blathering in text form.

🍬🌟 (Last message sent: 12:12am);

*soul touch

*thing

*that i prolly am thinkin 2 much ab

*n i just wanna no if were cool ab it

*n if its not cool i wanna make it up 2 u

\- You know, the fact it took eight minutes to continue your thought is likely that you have been agonising over this for quite some time.

\- Now, this either means that you’re truly worried about overstepping the boundaries of my person, or you are fixating on it because you’re curious.

\- Wherein I cannot blame you.

\- We are fine. It was a surprise, but it’s not anything I am not open about in the future. All things considered, I’d thought it would be much further into our relationship that either of us would attempt such a thing.

*thats a big relief tbh

*no pressure

\- I understand your trepidation concerning affection. That is why I’m here for an open outlook on things as well as to ensure that there is communication between us. If something is bothering you, you need not hide it from me.

*ur the best

Somehow, that didn’t seem to convey everything that Sans felt. ‘Relief’ wasn’t even the beginning of how he felt at that moment. Reassured beyond all measure of a doubt, Sans didn’t even realise that he’d held his breath the entire time until he gasped. Hastily, he rubbed at his face, his hands starting to tremble with the weight that suddenly lifted from him.

🍬🌟 (Last message sent: 12:13am);

\- I

Somehow, the mistype made Sans laugh.

🍬🌟 (Last message sent: 12:15am);

\- only want for you to be comfortable and happy. It has nothing to do with my capabilities nor any variance of pandering. It’s my true wish. Seeing you happy and smile makes me happy.

*buckle in cuz u make me happy

*gdi that sounds corny af

\- :)

*aw a smilie just 4 me u shouldnt have

Despite how the text read, Sans felt a warmth build up in his chest, fond recognition bleeding between his ribs. Oddly enough, he felt bolstered as the sensation amplified.

🍬🌟 (Last message received: 12:26am);

*same goes 4 me

*n this might b weird to admit but like

*i no i wanna try 1 day

*or @ least showin u

*i no im gonna regret this mb but

*i tried

*not w/ ne1 else but by myself

*i dont wanna hide it from u

*im not stable

*i think i mentioned that

*n mb its tacky to say this over txts instead of face 2 face

\- It’s alright. However makes you most comfortable. Sometimes it is easier to write things down in place of speaking outright.

Sans idled in place for a moment. He couldn’t mention the ‘delay’. This was already skirting close to admitting the procedures done when he was a child.

🍬🌟 (Last message received: 12:37am);

*mb i should talk 2 u l8r in person

*point bein im not stable 4 direct touch

*im

*its not from when i fell down but its scary 2 talk ab

*bc that means its real

*n tbh i dont want it 2 b real

\- I am here if you need me. It doesn’t have to be explained straight away. I will never force you into anything you don’t want to do or talk about. Though I’d like to correct you before you attempt once more that our souls aren’t meant for physical touch. It may be too much to bear all at once. Especially on one’s own.

*o

*welp

*neway ur a gem

*its hard 2 admit but i appreci8 u esp bc of stuff

*just stuff from a long time ago

\- I understand, though at the same time it sounds as though you’re hesitant to speak of it. You’ve endured a lot. Remember to be kind to yourself and rest, like you said you would.

*yea i think its time 4 sleep

*sry i keep txtin u @ wtf oclock @nite

\- It’s never been an issue before. Why would it be now? 💛

Sans had to hand it to him. Grillby was right. He never really felt like he was a burden when he opened up to the fire monster. He waited a few minutes more until the backlight of his phone turned off. It seemed like the conversation was over. He sighed with the little push of catharsis he felt with the hint of what had happened. It hung in his soul like a worry, a bruise to be soothed and mended.

He’d get to it. Eventually. On his own time.

When he got dressed into the pyjamas he’d brought with him into the bathroom, Sans opened the door to an empty hallway and crossed the short distance into his room. It was cooler than what he was used to, but it had the nostalgic and small comforting lull of a familiar place where he could be safe.

He held his phone in his hand and idly scrolled through social media until his eyes were strained with sleep. After awhile, the passing notion to bring up Grillby’s photo came to him and he grinned at the picture for a few moments, already repressing sleep.

This time, he managed to pass out before the screen blacked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thank you to Enneadodeca on twitter who helped to beta this chapter ;;;w;;;
> 
> I know there are plot points still on the backburner (aka, the human in The Ruins and Gaster stuff), but I swear things are coming. Interesting things.
> 
> [thefloatingstone](https://thefloatingstone.tumblr.com/) on tumblr drew a 2 page comic of a scene in [chapter 41](https://skerbbie.tumblr.com/post/187945236340/) (sfw)  
> [unregisteredcookie](https://unregisteredcookie.tumblr.com/) on tumblr drew fanart for me for [chapter 1!](https://skerbbie.tumblr.com/post/187945207575/) (sfw)  
> [popato-chisps](https://popato-chisps.tumblr.com/) on tumblr drew a scene from [chapter 43](https://skerbbie.tumblr.com/post/187945144770/) (sfw)


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